A Change of Heart
by Ladyoftarth
Summary: These events take place directly after Jaimie's final chapter in A Dance with Dragons. If you haven't read the books and don't want spoilers I advise to move on. All for the love of Jaime/Brienne. A song of Ice and Fire
1. True Arrow

In the distance a large hill loomed before them, a grove of trees nestled at its peak, the branches shifting slightly in the wind, giving it the appearance of skeletal fingers scraping at a dark grey sky. They had been marching through a barren and bleak landscape, war scarred and eerily quiet.

The wench had said maybe a handful of words in their few hours of their travel, usually little more than curt directions. Of course he had never known Brienne of Tarth to be verbose, but even for her this level of muteness was suspicious.

Jaime's uneasiness grew as he recalled what she said, drawing him away from the safety of his camp. _The Hound has Sansa, she had said, you need to come alone with me, or he will kill her._ Jaime had been more elated than he cared to admit when he first laid eyes on Brienne riding into his camp. He had to hold himself back from embracing her in a hug, that would of been uncomfortable for them both, especially in the presence of his men. He had important business settle in the Riverlands, and was resentful for being pulled away from those duties to drudge along in the mud with this giant mute of a woman again. _It had been those damned eyes…_ Beside her sword, those eyes were her greatest weapons. Eyes so unbelievably blue, deep and clear, like calm waters.

He had only had a glimpse of those eyes as she recanted her brief story, she avoided his gaze, but she was more a shy maiden than her exterior implied. Jaime not questioning her honesty agreed to ride with her alone.

They had ridden for maybe an hour when he first spied the full extent of her wounds. They had stopped to make water, when she came out of the brush, one of her scarves caught on a branch, revealing a horrific wound on her cheek. She hastily covered her face, her eyes meeting his only briefly, she looked down and away, refusing to see his reaction.

He would not let her go that easy, "Brienne, what has happened to your face?"

"A bite. It's fine." She said quietly as she mounted her horse. It was clear she did not care to elaborate.

Jaime was mentally arguing away the pains of guilt he feeling for sending her out alone on this quest for the Stark girls, he had lost his temper and sent her away in anger, he knew better than most how dangerous it was to travel the lands alone. He couldn't help but feel responsible for her maiming. As they continued their ride he noticed another scar, this one fresher, the tell-tale signs of a rope burn around her neck, of that wound she did not speak. As their ride continued Jaime couldn't deny the lurch in his guts was growing stronger with each step forward.

They had ridden for hours when they approached a hill, a dead tree could be seen at the top and its branches held the bodies of several hanged men.

Jaime finally comprehending the source of the rope burn on Brienne's neck asked, "What have you done?"

"Jaime, I'm sorry..." she said her voice mournful and blue eyes watering.

A woman so slight in figure it could not be believed appeared near the tree, along with several men, all armed. The woman was hooded, but Jaime recognized her, but barely. "By the Gods... Catelyn Stark?"

A cackling barely audible noise hissed from the hill, "Kingslayer" she held her throat, almost as if she was forcing that horrible sound out from her mouth. Her lips were such an odd color, grayer than the winter sky which loomed above them.

Brienne spoke again, "I've brought you Ser Jaime, now my squire"

Jaime's heart dropped in his chest._ No_. He turned to meet her anguished eyes; they almost seemed to plead with him. The arrogant part of Jaime Lanister couldn't help but feel slighted, his life being worth that of a mere squire.

Bound by his wrists young Podrick Payne was shoved down the hill, small rocks tumbling down with him, he hurried clumsily to Brienne.

The hooded Catelyn specter simply nodded.

That is when the first arrow hit.

Jaime cried out as it pierced his right shoulder.

The second clanked harmlessly off his chest armor.

The third caused his horse to rear, Jaime attempted to stay mounted, grabbing uselessly at the reins with his golden right hand, and he fell backwards his head smacking against the mucky ground. The pain forced his eyes to shut, when he opened them Brienne was standing above him, his sword, no _her _sword Oathkeeper, pointed at his neck. Her raw unhealed wounds clumsily stitched together on her cheek screamed shades of pink and red. Her eyes, those blue, blue eyes were brimmed with tears.

"Do it", the Catelyn creature hissed.

Jaime unbuckled his chest plate, grabbed the tip of Oathkeeper gently and guided the blade over his heart. Jaime spat blood into the mud and then said, "I believe this is the spot wench,"

That is when Brienne's tears finally fell. A small gasping sob escaped her lips.

Jaime held her gaze, "Don't let this change you."

Brienne looked at him strangely. Her voice boomed with more frustration and rage than Jaime had ever witnessed, "I will not do this!" She stood over him protectively, making it clear that she was not going to slaughter him.

Podrick stood unprotected; the whip of an arrow cut through the air, and tore through the young squire's neck. He collapsed to the ground; the arrow was true and his death instant.

"Nooooo!" Brienne screamed out in anguished disbelief.

A sound almost resembling cackling gleeful laughter came from Catelyn.

Eight men encircled Brienne and Jaime, closing in, swords drawn.

With her great strength Brienne pulled Jaime to his feet and thrust her second sword into his left hand. They stood back-to-back as Catelyn's men moved forward.


	2. The Dance

It was fortunate the arrow had hit his right shoulder; it was for the most part a useless appendage anyway. With Brienne pressed against his back they rotated with the slow advancing attack of Catelyn's men. Like a dance, they moved in unison together.

Why doesn't she just rain more arrows upon our heads? Jaime quickly glanced up to the hill where three archers stood ready. That would be too quick... Jaime thought. Four men each between us? An intact right-wielding Kingslayer would have made easy work of them... And although he had spent hours upon hours with Ilyn Payne fighting with his left hand, Jaime felt without a doubt this was a fight he could not win.

But by the mothers' teets, I'll die fighting.

One of the brothers boldly charged at Brienne, Jaime could feel her tense as she steadied herself in anticipation of the blow. From his right, two more advanced in closer.

There was a scream of metal as Oathkeeper collided with the inferior sword of the brother to strike, Brienne easily parried the blow and delivered Oathkeeper to the man's innards, the blade cutting through him as easily as a spoon breaking through a bowl of brown. In one quick swift movement Brienne brought the sword back and thoroughly separated the man's head from his neck.

Jaime couldn't help but smile. Now they might take the wench more seriously. His thoughts were interrupted as the men facing him screamed and charged. It would seem the fight was truly on now.

Never breaking their back-to-back formation Jaime and Brienne dodged, parried, and thrust as their attackers came. Jamie managed to deflect a swing meant for Brienne's leg; she in kind returned the favour by smashing her fist into the jowls of a man holding a dagger as he advanced on his right, blood and teeth flying into the mud. Jaime had fought many times, in tournaments and in battle fields, among many knights. The fluidity in which he fought alongside Brienne was mythical.

They fought steadily and with precision, and soon their odds were much better than when the fight had started. Five men had fallen by their swords, hope began to grow within Jaime's breast, we might live through this yet...

An audible and terrible crack came as one of the brothers managed to land a blow to the side of Brienne's wounded cheek. Brienne stumbled, yelling in pain as she fell to her knees.

Something raged inside Jaime and it was then that he truly felt like the lion of his family's house. All doubts of his abilities evaporated as the left-handed Jaime charged at the man who hit Brienne. His blade connected with the man's face, smashing his nose with a satisfying crunch. Blood pooled down the brothers chin mixing with the muck at his feet.

Jaime turned to see the two remaining men, cautiously approaching Brienne who was attempting to raise herself. Jamie dashed at the men screaming as his sword connected with one, a fatal blow that sliced the tender inside of his thigh. The other brother who was approaching Brienne collapsed to the mud as Brienne kicked his legs out from under him. Without a word she delivered Oathkeeper into his throat.

His breath heaved, sweat dripped into his eyes, but he was alive! They had done it, their victory made all the sweeter, he had bettered his enemies with his left hand, and he was almost giddy. That is when he remembered Catelyn and the archers. I fucking hate archers. He looked at Brienne who now stood upright by his side. She looked the Seven Hells, but her blue eyes were bright and focused, her chin raised, and without a word they charged the hill.


	3. Kept and Broken Oaths

Brienne reached for a discarded shield, a simple wooden buckler that had been carried by one of the fallen brothers. She protected her face with it as two arrows bit into the wood. A third arrow whizzed by narrowly missing Jaime's head. As Brienne and Jaime closed the gap, the archers predictably broke form and ran.

The thing that was Catelyn Stark stood like a stone on the hill, her eyes a swirl of pain and hatred. As Jaime moved in closer a familiar festering smell assaulted his nose.

She smells like my hand did, he thought with morbid curousity as he remembered his severed hand dangling about his neck.

As he approached the deathly looking Lady Catelyn Jaime sheathed his sword, and raised his hand in an attempt to show her he meant no harm. Brienne watched them warily.

Lady Catelyn stood unmoving, a terrible low gasping sound escaping her lips. Jaime strained to hear her; she seemed to be saying, Dead ... No. Ned.

Jamie finally spoke, "I promised you, I would deliver you your daughters, and I intend to keep my word. We will bring them home". As Jaime said it he realized that the word home may have been a mistake, the girls had no home to return to. Catelyn's reaction to Jamie's declaration had the same impassive dismissal that the Black Fish had when he had made his terms at Riverrun. His words meant nothing to her.

"Home?" Catelyn looked at him with venom. "My home is with Ned underneath the ruin that is Winterfell kill me and be done with it."

Jamie shifted uncomfortably, his hand touching the hilt of his sword.

"No. Not you. Your whore. Take my bones to Winterfell. Do this and I release you Brienne." Catelyn eyes narrowed in hatred as she spat out her words.

Brienne shook her head no, a pained expression painted her face. "Please My Lady, I can't do that. Your daughters are..." Brienne was cut off by the most unsettling sound; Lady Catelyn appeared to be laughing, her head bent and her shoulders shook.

She's mad, Jaime thought. It would be mercy, he unsheathed his sword.

In turn, Brienne unsheathed hers.

What is she doing?

"Have you forgotten your oath, Ser?" Brienne said the last word with a snarl.

Surely he can't be serious... This creature was not the woman whose family he had promised to never raise arms against. Brienne moved herself in front of Lady Catelyn, blocking his path and making her severity known through her action.

Despite all the horrors she had encountered, her own broken oaths to Catelyn, to himself even, Brienne was going to fight him now for this creature? This was the vow she was choosing to keep? Jaime was astounded and bemused at Brienne's reasoning.

That flame of judgment was in her eyes again. Exhausted and infuriated Jaime's fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword. She has no right to look at me like that. His temper taking hold Jaime swung his sword; Brienne blocked the blow, stumbling back slightly. Their swords kissed again and again, neither holding back. It was a sorry show, both fighting at the brink of exhaustion. Wounds old and new reopened as they fought.

Damn her endurance, Jaime struggled to hold his ground as she pushed him back towards the brim of the hill. I'm going to lose to her... again. Jaime thought with frustration. He knew if he was to win, he'd have to take a more unworthy approach to victory.

As Brienne swung high he bent low, grabbing her torso and pulling her back. They fell down the hill armor clanking noisily, a rain of dirt and rocks with them. Brienne hit her head a large rock below the cliff, her eyes rolled back and then half shut, the whites of her eyes still slightly visible.

Oh Gods. Jaime's temper evaporated at the sight of Brienne lying injured in the muck, he grabbed her into his arms in a panic; his left hand brushed away her sweaty straw colored hair. As his skin pressed against her forehead he was amazed at how hot her skin was with fever. He pressed his ear against her mouth, Thank the Gods, she's breathing! The unrealized fear that was gripping his heart loosened some. He looked up the hill to where Catelyn had been, she was gone.

Returning his attention to Brienne he gazed at the butchery that had been done to her face. Her cheek was a festering mess, the rest of her face was covered with a mix of mud and blood. I did this to her. Jamie thought with a quiet and guilty sorrow.

As the sky grew darker the first few drops of a promised rain began to fall.


	4. A Storm Comes

The rain grew colder, and heavier as it turned to a mix of sleet and snow. Jamie knew they had to quickly find shelter; a storm was moving in and fast. Brienne lay in his arms, unconscious and muttering feverishly. If she asked what had been done with the boy, he would lie, he didn't have the energy to bury the squire and this storm was growing worse by the minute. He removed his cloak, and bundled it into a make-shift pillow, setting her head down gently he set to work gathering their weapons, his purse, a flask of water, and a flask of wine from one of the bodies of the fallen, with previsions in hand Jaime returned to Brienne's unconscious body.

He knew how much she would hate to lose her armour again, but there was no way he was going to be able to carry her with it, removing her chest plate, pauldrons and greaves. He picked her up in his arms, and carried her as best he could. Everything ached, the wound from the arrow he had managed to pull out was screaming.

Her eyes fluttered open briefly, "Renly?"

"''Fraid not", Jaimie grunted as he adjusted her weight in his arms. Her eyes shut again, and she said no more of Renly. Jaime pushed aside the peculiar dull ache he felt in his chest.

The sleet was now decidedly snow, heavy large flakes fell quietly. If he hadn't been in so much agony, he could of almost enjoyed the serene beauty. He walked with Brienne in his arms for what seems like hours, when he noticed a torched farm and field that lay barren just ahead of him. Beyond exhausted Jaime entertained the idea of crawling and dragging Brienne along with him. He knew that if he dropped down it would be the end of them, so he trudged on, concentrating on each step as it brought him closer to the shack.

He pushed his way into the abandoned place, flimsily built with old pine, grey and worn. It must of served as a stable, there was a pile of hay along the back wall, he did his best to gently set Brienne down upon it, but it was not the most graceful delivery, she was heavy and he was at the brink of collapsing himself.

His clothes were wet, as were hers. He managed a small fire and searched for anything that might be of use, he cursed himself silently with how arduous each task was. Jaime found a ratty horse blanket, a tin cup, and three pitifully small onions.

Brienne was moaning inaudible words. As long as she doesn't call for Renly again. Jamie thought as he set some water and onions to boil in the tin cup.

Making his way to Brienne he could see she was violently starting to shiver. "Sorry my lady", he said as he began to undress her. "I'll most likely lose a few teeth for this, but it's not like I haven't seen this before." He pulled off her wet tunic and as he did so, his hands brushed lightly against her skin. Despite himself he could feel movement in his breeches. Her breasts were small, as were her pink nipples, her stomach was muscular and flat, he couldn't resist and with his fingers gently stroked her stomach, his hand slowly moving up to her breasts. He stopped. Equally puzzled and disgusted with his actions. He covered her with the blanket and proceeded to remove the rest of her clothes.

Grabbing the onion broth he had made Jaime gingerly held the cup to her lips.

"Drink, wench," He pleaded.

She half opened her eyes and silently complied, coughing a bit, but managing three small sips.

Jaime finished the remaining broth and added more wood to the fire.

He took some of the wine and boiled it in the cup. He had watched Qyburn do the same when he tended to his stump. He didn't' have Qyburn's salves, but he had to work with what he had. His own stump ached at the memory of the treatments Qyburn had performed, but they did work. Jaime frowned wondering how he was every going to hold Brienne down one-handed; he knew she would fight him once he set the boiled wine to her wounded face. He sat on her chest, pinning down her arms as best he could with his knees. He slowly and methodically began to pour the wine on her wounds.

She screamed, bucking under his weight. It distressed him how feeble she was.

He could see the white swirls of snow blowing through the cracks in the stables walls. The storm was howling louder outside. Brienne began to shiver again, jittery gasps escaping her lips as her body violently shook. Jaime removed his clothing, practically every muscle protesting with each effort. He lifted the blanket, allowing himself a brief glimpse of her alabaster body and curled up beside her. Her body was coated in sweat, and yet he couldn't help but recognize how incredibly soft her skin was. He had never felt skin as soft, not even Cersei, the thought reluctantly came to him. For the first time in his life thinking of his naked sister's body was unwelcomed. He focused instead on Brienne, her body beginning to still as he warmed her with his. He wrapped his left arm around her, thinking of how his actions were necessary, and nothing more.

Despite not wanting to fall asleep, Jaime drifted away holding Lady Brienne, the storm howling outside.


	5. The Morning After

Brienne awoke slowly fighting her way to consciousness. She winced in pain her mouth felt raw and dry, her vision was blurry and there was a dull ache in her skull. Coming to her senses she could feel an arm wrapped around her, she immediately tensed, her first thought was to elbow whoever it was in the throat, she then felt the other arm underneath her torso. With her fingers she gingerly felt the smooth dismembered stump of Jaime Lannister. Her heart began to race even faster. Dear Gods I'm naked. Her hand searched elsewhere beneath the blanket... He's naked!

Not moving Brienne surveyed the room as best she could. There was an extinguished fire, a small tin cup next to it, and on a nail hung her weapons, tunic and breeches. Where's my armor? She stiffened as she felt Jaime beginning to moan and stir. His arm tightened about her waist, his hand caressing her torso. She could feel his hardness pressing against her. Brienne blushed horrified, she had never been this close to a man before, let alone a naked one, any closer and I could no longer call myself maid, Brienne thought embarrassed at the predicament she found herself in. Thankful that Jaime was still slumbering, she slowly raised his arm freeing herself from his grip, slipping out of the blanket she attempted to make her way to her tunic, her legs were shaky, and the earthen floor was cold beneath her bare feet. A sudden great wave of dizziness overtook her and she stumbled against the wall.

The noise awoke Jaime.

Brienne recovered somewhat scrambling to cover her chest with her tunic.

"I think we are way past modesty my lady." Jaime grinned, a devilish twinkle in his eye.

"What happened? Where are we?" Brienne leaned against the wall, still clutching her tunic.

Jaime half sat up underneath the blanket, grabbing a wine flask and uncorking it, "Let's just say you can most aptly handle a sword", he glanced down at his lap, "not so much your wine." He finished his sentence with a swig from the flask.

Brienne's blue eyes widened in shock, as she covered her hand with her mouth.

Jaime gave a roarous laugh. It was then she realized he was joking.

Brienne hurt and infuriated hurled the nearest object closest to her, his boot still covered in mud struck him squarely in the forehead. "Yield! Ok! I apologize", the blow had lessened his laughter some but he was still chuckling as he stood and brought the blanket over to her.

She refused to meet his gaze as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. She failed to share in his mirth; Brienne had been far too often the subject of men's jokes. It hurt that Jaime would play with her so.

Her hurt thoughts melted into sorrowful one as the memory of yesterday came back to her, her dizziness increased as all her betrayals came flooding back, Lady Catelyn, poor Podrick, and Ser Jaime. She slumped to the floor, the strength in her legs finally giving way. Her heart ached, and she felt like throwing up. Attempting to pull herself to her feet again she found she did not have the strength to.

"Easy wench, easy". Jaime came to her side blanket in hand.

The heat of her anger had ebbed, now she felt chilled, the pit in her stomach bottomless. "Jaime, I want you to know that I am truly sorry." She looked up to meet his eyes. He only met her gaze for a moment, draping the blanket around her shoulder before turning his back to her, he silently finished dressing. His one hand fumbled with his laces. Brienne felt the urge to jump up and help him, but stayed sitting on the cold ground, finding she had neither the strength nor courage.

The silence between them lasted uncomfortably long.

Finally he spoke. "It's who you are."

She squinted at him, not understanding.

He knelt down, his green eyes level with hers, they seemed so sad. "I know something of betrayal, I also know about making difficult choices"

He was speaking of Aerys

"For me the decision was forced with the threat of the burning of an entire city and its people, for you it was the life of a boy, it's who you are Brienne. I'm only going to say this once... I forgive you."

She hadn't wept the night she was threatened with rape, she hadn't wept when he had left her at Harrenhal, she hadn't wept in the bear pit, but now all her sadness seem to threaten to spill out of her. She sobbed into her hands, trying to muffle the noise of her anguish. Don't cry, don't cry, not here, not here with him! The more she fought the tears, ugly hard gasps racked at her chest. When she was finally able to recover herself, she looked up utterly miserable. She couldn't read him; his face was impassive and detached.

Jaime Lanister finally spoke, "I suppose we're meeting in the middle."


	6. Quite A Pair

There was an incredible amount of snow piled against the rickety door of the stable; Brienne pushed her weight against it, allowing for enough space to step outside. The air was crisp and clean. The sky was blue, and it looked as though the storm was over. As the sun climbed higher she hoped it would melt the new snow, making travel easier. She was conflicted and uncomfortable with the thought of been cooped up with Jaime for too long, the man seemed to take particular delight in goading and antagonizing her. She had to reluctantly admit that there was a part of her that yearned to stay; there was always a duel of anxiety and peace when she was with him. With most men it was mostly just anxiety. The few times she had let her guard relax, the cruel sting of rejection or humiliation never failed to be too far behind. It was clear that they would not be going anywhere this morning, but these early snows never stayed on the ground long.

In the light of the day Jaime had managed to find a pail, in which he was attempting to heat some snow. It would not be the great stone baths of Harrenhal, but both were desperate to wash.

"I think we might have a chance of traveling this afternoon" Brienne said kneeling down near the fire.

"Sorry, not much of a cook, but I feel I am perfecting this dish", Jaime handed Brienne the tin cup filled with onion broth. She couldn't help but allow a small smile. Jaime raised his eyebrows in amusement. He always did that when she smiled. She found it somewhat irksome.

Brienne sipped the broth, grateful for its heat as it made its way down her throat, she was still fighting bouts of dizziness, and her legs were disgustingly weak, but she felt shades better than the previous evening, little of which she could remember. Her night had been full of troubling dreams, one after another. One in particular she couldn't seem to shake...

Renly had been with her. Despite herself she blushed at the memory. He had held her hand as they climbed it together. In her dream she was smaller, like an average woman, her hair was longer too and braided. She was still in breeches though, even in her dreams Brienne was sensible enough to know traipsing through tall grasses made more sense in breeches rather than a cumbersome long skirt. Renly had pulled her down beside him; they lay with their backs on the ground, looking up into the sky wild flowers of every colour had spread all around them like a beautiful quilt. He looked at her with a dazzling smile, but suddenly his eyes turned cold "You let me die Brienne." and then the sun set alarmingly fast, casting a red hue on everything. The flowers turned crimson, when she looked beside her again Renly had become Catelyn Stark, worms and maggots fell from her eyes, her skeletal-like fingers gripping at her throat.

"Its warm enough," She shivered as Jamie brought the pail of warmed water to Brienne. She washed her face, feeling the sting of every half-healed cut, the water was more cool than warm, and she welcomed it. When she was finished Jaime washed his face and neck as well. He pulled off his shirt. There was no denying how perfect his torso was, every muscle, line and curve in its proper place, like some marble statue she had seen in Kings Landing. He was no longer half a corpse... all god. Brienne shifted uncomfortably and averted her eyes to the corner of the room. Slumping down, the blanket wrapped around her.

"We're going to have to tend to that wound again." He poured some wine into the tin cup.

When it was boiled he came over to her carefully lowering himself to the floor beside her. He raised his arms and gestured for her to lay her head in his lap.

"I can manage myself," Brienne refused.

"Don't be ridiculous wench, lay your bloody head down and let me tend your stubborn face", He always called her a wench when he meant to provoke or had lost his patience with her.

Reluctantly Brienne lay the back of her head down on his lap. His golden hand held the bottom of her chin, tipping it up to see the wound better. She shut her eyes and braced for the impact of the hot wine. She hissed through clenched teeth, one cry escaping as the wine collided with the wound. When he was done he wrapped half her face with strips of cloth, pulling apart the bandage slightly for her eye to peek through. I must look a sight, Brienne thought. Any other woman would probably have been completely gutted having a good portion of her face torn to shreds, for the first time in her life Brienne was thankful she was no great beauty. She would not allow herself to sulk over her ruined face.

"It's healing rather nicely. Now my turn" Jaime handed the cup with the remaining wine to Brienne. He lay down, his right shoulder looked red and angry, the arrow fortunately hadn't struck too deep. She gently poured the remaining wine on it, he cursed as she did so. It was so strange to be this close to him, caring for him in this way, yet it felt natural. She grabbed a cloth and wiped the excess wine away from his chest, he was staring at her with those green eyes of his, a strange expression set on his face, Brienne looked down and at his lips instead. I wonder what it would be like to kiss him? Brienne immediately felt the heat rising from her chest and neck as this strange and unwelcome thought came to her. She dressed his wound with strips of cloth, her long fingers aptly performing the task.

When finished she felt a little like laughing, they certainly looked the pair.

"It's evident I can't afford to leave you alone to the road. I shouldn't have sent you away alone. This oath is as much mine as it is yours." Jaime spoke with sincerity. "We will find the Stark girls together, but first let us find a proper meal"

Brienne stared back into those green eyes of his, her gaze drifting to his parted lips despite herself; she consciously forced herself to meet his eyes again and spoke. "I know an inn".


	7. The Wine Will do it Everytime

The snow was a wet slush, it had melted fast as the sun climbed higher into the cloudless sky. They had been walking for hours, both their feet wet and cold when finally Brienne spoke, "There".

It was quite a large inn, double storied, with stables and a well. He could swear the horse he saw in the stable was the one she had left with at Kingslanding.

And then it dawned on him... "Are you insane!?" Jaime couldn't believe that she would bring him to the spot where the Brotherhood had captured her, where she was almost killed.

"There are children," Brienne spoke calmly, as if that was reason enough to return to this place.

"I don't bloody well care if there are baby dragons here. Wench are you not going to be happy until both our heads are off our shoulders?" Jaime was harshly whispering, his eyes darting all around him. "What are you doing?!" He grabbed at her arm as she made her way toward the inn.

Brienne roughly tore her arm away. "Stop. It will be fine." Her voice was low and stern; she had a fire in her eyes and she was prepared to argue.

Jaime knew it was useless to try and dissuade her, stubborn mule that she was. As frustrated as he was with her, he couldn't help but feel relief that she was mending. No doubt a temporary state of health, Jaime thought bitterly.

Brienne pushed on the door. It was barred. She tried knocking.

Jaime grabbed the hilt of his sword preparing himself for whatever may greet them.

There were sounds of the door being unbarred, and it opened ajar. A brown eyed girl with a crossbow squinted at them suspiciously. Her eyes widened when she recognized Brienne. "Holy Hells, you're alive?!" The girl lowered her cross bow. "What do you want?"

Brienne held up a gold dragon, "A hot meal and bath." Snatching the gold coin the girl stepped aside allowing Jaime and Brienne to enter.

"There were more children here before," Brienne said as she eyed the room. There had to be at least a dozen children, mostly small, and mostly girls.

"Aye, the brothers were taking the boys, most of them wanted to be little soldiers, less mouths to feed I 'spose."

"Where is the older boy who save my life?" Brienne asked

The girl shrugged. "Gendry? He comes 'round with game sometimes." The girl motioned to another, no older than nine. "Hey! Bring them stew!" The little girl jumped up and hurried back with two bowls.

Jaime's stomach groaned at the smell.

Brienne and Jaime ate without ceremony, both starving and trying not to think about the content of their meal.

"We'd like two baths prepared in our rooms please," Brienne requested.

The girl nodded, snapping her fingers and barking orders.

"More," Jaime demanded putting a silver stag on the table as he pushed his bowl towards the girl.

When they had eaten their fill they were shown to their rooms. Brienne was taken to the room down the hall by the little girl. He watched her disappear behind the door and he felt an odd sadness at the prospect at sleeping under the same roof but in another room away from her.

Jaime began to undress in his room, eager to bathe before the water cooled. I should offer to clean her wound again. He thought as he lowered himself into the water. Jaime knew she would refuse, but there could be no argument with how well it was healing. He closed his eyes remembering Brienne's gentle fingers as they dressed his wounds, her blue eyes looking concerned, he could feel himself stiring the more he thought about her touching him. His thoughts then drifted to her chiselled stomach, muscular, but not unappealing, the feel of her unbelievably smooth skin. He felt more movement and entertained the idea of relieving himself, it had been days. Usually he would focus on memories of Cersei, the smell of her perfume, the sweetness of her laughter, her golden hair, the curve of her waist. Instead of these memories increasing his desire he soon realized it was pointless, and his excitement had left him completely.

There was a quiet rap on the door.

Jaime towelled off, pulled on his breeches and answered the knock.

Brienne stood with a pitcher, her hair damp from freshly bathing, she looked down at the floor and said, "I thought it best we care to each other's wounds again, I had some wine boiled for us." She did not budge from her spot, or look up at him, seemingly embarassed by her presence there.

Jaime did his best to suppress a smile; he stepped aside and motioned her to come in. Once inside he shut the door behind them.

She sat in the chair and held her head back. The light was very dim in the room, but the wound was indeed healing nicely, the redness was subsiding and the flesh was stitching together. It would leave a horrible scar, but she seemed to be taking it rather well. Better than most women would have. When he was finished he traded places with her. She knelt in front of him, changing his bandages. While her tender fingers worked he took the liberty to admire her long neck, it is very elegant, he leaned in closer, drawn to it, wanting to nestle his face next to it like he had done in the stable. As he moved forward she turned and her startled gaze met his, their noses almost touching. This is where she is going to blush and pull away from me. He refused to let her do that, firmly but tenderly holding the back of her head, he drew her face toward his.

To his extreme amazement her long fingers found their way to the back of his head. Her breath came out in stuttered gasps, he wondered if her heart was beating as much as his. He kissed her, slowly licking the bottom of her closed lips, she was inexperienced and did not open her mouth, the more he pressed his lips and tongue to her lips she blessedly yielded and opened her mouth, he began to kiss her more passionately. His heart was racing; she began to let out soft gasps. He yearned to hear her say his name and as if reading his mind she let out a soft moan... "Jaime"

He was seeing red with pent up lust, pushing off the chair he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down to the floor gently. He lay on top of her eager and hungry for more, keeping in mind she was a maid he resumed slowly again working his way down to her lovely neck, gently kissing, licking and biting, enjoying every inch.

"Jaime," she sighed again.


	8. The Inn

Brienne's fingers caressed the muscles of his back, firm and gentle each stroke of her finger tips made his skin sing, never had he been this intimate with another woman, he was surprised by the hunger Brienne was awakening, with every bite and kiss he landed upon her body, her nails would dig in slightly, the sensation was extraordinarily pleasurable.

Jamie nibbled at her earlobe, unbelievably he whispered, "I've wanted you since the baths at Harrenhal." Her nails bit into his back harder still. It was true; he finally knew it was true. He wanted this woman.

Feeling like he was spiraling Jaime continued to kiss and lick his way down her neck which seemed to go on forever, planting several at her collarbone, scars and all. She didn't smell of the thick flowery perfume like Cersei did, but her smell was intoxicating, she smelled like an open field at sunrise. Her thin tunic still on he made his way down to her small breasts, wetting the fabric with his tongue, taking a delicate nip he looked for her reaction.

Her head leaned back and she let out a soft moan, her back arched as she thrust her hips towards him. He was so incredibly aroused his groin ached against his breeches.

A knock came to the door.

A hundred curses ran through his head at once.

"Ser? Is m'lady there?" A small voice asked from behind the door.

_Gods I hate this inn._

Brienne was already scrambling, unceremoniously throwing him off of her. Brienne looked as flushed as he'd ever seen a woman, her hair was a mess, he watched as she attempted to smooth the pale strands into some kind of order. Jaime made his way to the chair and sat, trying to calm and still his breathing.

Feeling completely prepared, Brienne made her way to the door and opened it, "Yes? Oh..."

Curious to see what had given Brienne pause Jaime looked at the figure standing outside his door. The boy was dark haired, tall, and a good solid build. _He looks like King Robert, a thin and young Robert, definitely a Baratheon, no doubting that. Now this is curious..._

Brienne bowed her head slightly to the young man; even though the young man was tall, and still growing she was still heads taller. "I owe you my life"

The Robert-look-alike seemed extremely uncomfortable. "No. Stop, it's my fault that you came to any harm, I signaled the brothers… when Willow told me you were here and alive. I wanted to see you... and apologize" The young man looked down, and back up, his eyes sincere.

Brienne simply nodded.

"You are one of Robert's bastards aren't you?" Jaime couldn't help himself, it was too ridiculously obvious, and he was in a sour mood due to the boys interruption, he was beyond caring in being polite to some overgrown man child.

The young man glared at Jaime. "I don't know what you're talking about".

"You strike a remarkable resemblance to King Renly", Brienne added.

The boy looked utterly confused, and then as if watching the morning light make its way across a room, understanding seemed to dawn upon his face. The boy looked at Jaime's hand and without warning bolted away.

Jaime and Brienne looked at each other stunned.

"Catch him!" She finally yelled. "Go!"

"Why in the bloody hells would I chase this fool down?"

"He knows where Arya Stark is!" Wishing he had time for an explanation Jaime saw the urgency in Brienne's eyes._ She's serious…_

Jaime hurried down the stairs after the boy who now had a considerable lead and was unbarring the inn door. In the time it took for the bar to be removed from the door Jaime had narrowed the boy's lead. The boy finally managed to throw open the door and ran out into the night. Jaime cursed as he realized he was about to run out into a chilled winter night with no boots on his feet. He paused and stood at the door, amazingly Brienne was dragging the boy back towards him. The young man was swinging at her attempting to fight back. He was strong too by the looks of it. Jaime glanced up at the window to his room, the shutters were open. Dear Gods she jumped out the window!

"Stop!" Brienne yelled as she ducked another attempted blow. "We aren't going to hurt you,"

Jaime stepped in and helped Brienne wrestle the boy back inside.

This evening was not as promising as it had started.


	9. Mountain Climbing

They had spent nearly the whole evening speaking with Gendry. It had taken some time to convince him that Jaime Lannister was not there to fulfill the Queen's orders of killing Robert's bastards.

The three of them sat in the dim inn at a single table, cups of watery ale set before them, every once in awhile Brienne would spy a little face peeking out from behind a door. She felt sorry for these poor orphans, they seemed more curious than frightened by the evening's commotions. She supposed they had seen much worse in their little lives during this war, much worse than a giant woman and a one handed man wrestling a budding young hedge knight back into an inn.

Gendry had put up terrific fight; he was deceptively strong for his age. It had taken all of Brienne's strength to hold him steady, she was sure he would have slipped away if not for Jaime's assistance. Sipping at the terrible ale, she admired Gendry's familiar features, he reminded her so much of Renly. Renly who she had feared was fading from her memory. She had to admit there was a fondness thinking of him, but that was all. Her heart did not stir at the thought of him like it once had, but he was good and kind to her, he would have made a lovely king, and his death would be answered for, but first she needed to settle this matter of the Stark girls. Now with Jaime beside her, it seemed possible.

Brienne's eyes shifted from Gendry to Jaime, as they seemed prone to do, she had a hard time not looking at Jaime despite her best efforts. He looked up at her, a flash of green with a glint of mischief, the delightful smirk that came a little too naturally to his face, the way he licked his lips before he spoke. She still couldn't believe it was those lips that had been against her skin in the rooms above them, she had to steady her mind from distraction, she blushed realizing how miserably she was failing, remembering herself she continued questioning Gendry.

"Arya escaped the city with you didn't she?"

"I didn't know she was a Stark at the time," Gendry replied. "She looked like a small boy, being sent to the wall with the rest of us".

"Brienne, how the hells could you know this?" Jaime asked.

Brienne had been piecing together the scant amount of information she had been gathering around the Riverlands. Her time on the Quiet Isle had given her valuable information about Arya Stark being alive, it was a desperate stab in the dark hoping this Renly-look-alike... no Robert-look-alike would know where she was. The timing of the Stark girl's disappearance lined up with the now infamous killing of Robert's bastards.

"If you were a small girl trying to escape a city, what better way than to disguise yourself as a boy?" She knew better than most the advantages of being mistaken for a male when necessary.

Gendry seemed a little more at ease, but there was a hint of anger still present. "You'd be better off going after the other one. I hear Arya's married to a Bolton bastard; I've been hearing other things too..." Gendry had a dark look about him.

"That is not Arya Stark," Jaime chimed in. "She is a ruse, courtesy of Little Finger. An attempt to quell future uprisings in the north". Brienne nodded, remembering the information Jaime shared with her before departing for the Riverlands. Gods that seems like years ago...

Gendry seemed to be surprised, and happy at that news, his bright eyes practically shining with relief. It was obvious he genuinely cared for the youngest Stark daughter.

Little Finger. He seems to be the common thread. Brienne was becoming more and more certain that Arya was at least alive, but she was becoming more certain that Sansa was with this Little Finger.

Jaime must have been thinking the same thing as he sighed. "I suppose we're mountain climbing."


	10. On The Road

"So you're just going to forget about Arya?" Gendry was annoyed.

"Absolutely not." Brienne said. "We have to move on what is more certain."

"Sounds to me like the younger Stark girl is quite capable, she'll have to be capable for a little while longer", added Jaime.

"I 'spose I could look for her," Gendry had a new hope in his eyes upon realizing Arya might now be with the monster Ramsay Snow.

"Gendry, I think you need to stay here. These children need protection." Brienne looked at Gendry with imploring eyes.

"Take this," Jaime set a large sack of coins on the table. "For whatever they may need,"

"Gods!" Willow exclaimed, she had approached the table and picked up the sack. "I've never seen so much gold!" Willow looked dazed. Not many common folk would have seen that much gold. Brienne would have to caution the girl before they left. Without warning she flung her arms around Jaime's neck. "Thank-you ser! Thank-you!"

Brienne couldn't help but allow a small smile; Jaime seemed stunned, half-heartedly patting the girl on the back.

"I have one favor to ask." Brienne looked at Gendry. "Tell Lady Cat... Stoneheart that we have not given up on her daughters," Brienne was uncertain what she would do if she ever did find the girls, but she was hoping that if Stoneheart and her Brothers was aware of their plans, as unlikely as it may seem, she just might let them be. She had to try.

Gendry nodded.

Brienne and Jaime made their way to their rooms. They briefly paused at their doors to steal a glance at each other. A slight nod and they stepped inside their own respective rooms. An silent acknowledgement to ignore what had transpired earlier, a fleeting bit of madness to not be spoken of again.

Brienne lay back on her bed, her mind a swirl of emotions and thoughts. Not just about Sansa and Arya Stark, but also about Jaime. What possessed him? What possessed me? She couldn't believe she had been so brazen as to kiss him back. She should have smacked him, like a good noble lady, but she didn't... She was embarrassed by the realization she hadn't wanted to dissuade Jaime. He said he wanted me? Brienne could feel the pace of her heart quickening, just thinking about him made her hot and breathe irregular. How can I travel with him now? She closed her eyes and after what seemed like hours finally drifted to sleep.

She was on a mountain, the winds whipped at her hair; her back was pressed against a rock. Above her three great birds flew, screeching horribly. A mountain lion was on a ledge several feet high. The animal aptly and gracefully jumped down to Brienne. Its eyes glistened green. The lion pounced at her ripping at her throat, tearing her to shreds.

A knock awoke her, "Brienne," Jaime's voice came from behind the door. "It's time we made off."

They left the inn, Gendry and the children behind them. Brienne was feeling a renewed sense of purpose as she saddled her horse. She was determined to push her lustful thoughts of Jaime aside, they had a mission to attend to, nothing more. She silently hoped he would have the sense to not make comment about their indiscretions; he had a way of saying shocking things. Jaime seemed to be in good spirits as he mounted his horse, whistling an unknown tune. Thankfully nothing but his whistles escaped from his lips.

They rode contently, and camped when necessary. The weather was cold most days, but there had not been any more snow storms. They met few travelers on the road.

One particularly cold night, the bitter winds slashed at their faces, biting into the flesh of their cheeks with a fury. Brienne had managed to avoid a continuance of the events that took place at the inn several evenings ago; she had made a point to make herself busy whenever they settled, moving away from him if he came too close. She was sure Jaime was just missing the affections of his sister. Her insecurity as always held her back from pursuing or responding to any of his advances. The thought of mistaking any kind gesture for a romantic one paralyzed her with fear. She would not allow that kind of humiliation.

One very cold evening Jaime exasperated, "For Gods sake woman, get over here!"

Brienne's teeth chattered, her body racked with shivers, but she refused to budge and sat stubbornly by the meager fire.

Jaime moved to her. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his cheek into her neck. It was so cold that Brienne gasped as his flesh made contact with hers. With time as their skin touched and the cruel cold abated, suddenly and without warning she could feel the gentle press of his lips on her neck, a light and delicate kiss that warmed Brienne to her core.

She looked him in the eye, trying to decipher if what was happening was real.

Gods he is perfect. Forgetting herself and all her mental protestations Brienne opened her mouth as he leaned in towards her, their tongues searching for each other. Both wishing it wasn't so cold to allow for undressing, and more. They slept that night in each other's arms, warm and comforted.

By the third evening they had reached the mountain pass. They were so close. Brienne couldn't shake the feeling of her dream, the landscape they were about to embark on was so eerily familiar.

From the west several riders came carrying the banner of the stag and lion. "Ser Jaime, we've been searching for you. King Tomen commands your presence back at King's Landing." The rider held a scroll with the King's seal.

Brienne nodded to Jaime, "I can carry on the rest of the way, Ser Jaime."

"No, I'm not leaving you alone with this again." Jaime looked every bit the high lord commander as he turned to the King's men. "I will return once I have found Sansa Stark, and have returned her... to safety."

"My lord, haven't you heard? Sansa has been returned to King's Landing."


	11. Camp Life

"Sansa Stark is to stand trial for the murder of King Joffery, as well as Lord Robert, her cousin. Seems he died of the same poison." Jaime looked vexed.

"Ridiculous!", Brienne exclaimed.

They sat in his tent at camp, mid-way to Kings Landing. Brienne had initially tried to break off from him. She had wanted to head back east, to see if she could find more leads on Arya, she trusted Jaime to act on the best intrests of Sansa, but Jaime had refused. He seemed to want her close at all times, and requested her presence at all meals. In her heart she loathed the idea of setting out on her own again.

There was no denying the comforts they were enjoying at camp was an immense improvement to the dried salted fish, stale bread and bedrolls laid over rocky terrain as they had been accustomed to. They were in the process of breaking their fast on soft bread, oranges, olives and an assortment of meats and cheeses. It was a small glimpse into the life of a Lannister. This was only his camp tent, Brienne couldn't begin to imagine the luxuries he had enjoyed growing up at Casterly Rock. She grabbed another slice of orange. The juices were sweet and tasted of a summer gone by. Jaime bit into his own orange, the juices dribbling down his freshly shaven chin. She half sighed thinking about how much she would actually prefer the road after all. The chilled evenings had been miserable, but there were some perks...She knew in her heart her days of curling up with Jaime were through. He now had all the fur blankets from every beast imaginable in the kingdom to keep him warm at night.

"Brienne, we will put a stop to this, I can reason with Cersei," Jaime interrupted her thoughts, as she fought away a blush. She really needed to focus.

Her. The Queen. Cersei. His twin, his companion, his lover...Brienne did her best to keep her face neutral as he mentioned her name. She had this queer wrench in her guts, working its way up to her chest.

"I trust you can. I need to stretch my legs," Brienne abruptly left the table.

Jaime looked confused, but did not pursue her. As she left she heard him call out, requesting that she not go too far.

She walked the camp, trying her best to avoid the other soldiers. It was always a futile effort, being as tall as she was, she elicited stares wherever she went since she was three-and-ten.

"So you think he's fucking her?" Brienne heard a gruff man ask another, she stopped in her tracks, stood and listened.

"Aye, most likely to keep warm. It's that or the mountain goats,"Another man replied.

"Looking at her, I'd take my chance with the goat," There was uproarious laughter at that. Brienne turned away from them, striding off in the opposite direction. There was brief sting of hurt, but as she had done for years, she pushed the pain away deep down inside herself.

Her thoughts turned towards Sansa... If she is truly innocent, surely her innocence will prevail at trial. As these thoughts came to her she knew how ridiculous they seemed. Gone were her beliefs in the laws of the kingdom holding true, for white knights to always be victorious, and for the innocent to be protected from harm.

As she walked the camp she learned more of the events that had taken place. Lord Petyr Baelish was given the Eyrie in exchange for securing Sansa and arranging her return to King's Landing. The Tyrells had been vanquished from the capital when it was revealed at trial Margaery was not a maiden, her marriage to Tommen had been annulled, it was rumored that the Tyrells had to pay a vast sum of money in exchange for Margaery to be returned to High Garden. Cersei now acted again as Queen Regent. Tommen was all that was left of her children. There had been rumors of two assassination attempts on the young princess Myrcella, it would seem she did not survive the second. Jaime had said she was a sweet girl, but nothing more. If he was affected by her death, he did not show it.

The sun was rising higher in the sky, they would soon be off, most likely arriving at Kings Landing on the 'morrow. Brienne made her way back to her tent, she heard and saw the tell-tale signs of a fight outside Jaime's. She rushed to push past the crowd. "Say it again!" She heard Jaime yell.

"I'm sorry m'lord, 'twas a joke," the man blubbered his apology through a hand soaked in blood, it painted his chin and chest, his nose was clearly broken.

Jaime raised his golden hand, pointing it at the man. "If I hear one ill word spoken of Lady Tarth, I will have your tongue ripped out from your disgusting mouth. That goes for everyone!" Jaime's eyes were full of fury, they darted challenging all of them, and then they settled on her. Brienne looked down and away, her emotions too muddied to comprehend. All the men were now looking at her wide-eyed and confused. She had never in her life wished she could just sink into the earth more than she did at that moment. Jaime looking a bit perplexed brushed himself off, straightened his jacket and returned to his tent.

The eyes of the other men followed Brienne as she silently walked to her own tent. Inside she buried her face into her hands, calming herself by imaging the blue waters of Tarth.


	12. Dinner with the Queen

The smell of King's Landing had improved with winter. As far south as the capital was, it saw mostly hard rains in the early months of winter, the water helped to wash away the waste and filth of the streets. Brienne and Jaime split ways, he back to the White Sword Tower, her to a lavish room in the heart of the Red Keep. Brienne trusted that Jaime had much to do with her accommodations. The rich tapestries, intricately carved furniture and embroidered bedding were sumptuous. In the corner stood a grand bookcase, a collection of tomes nearly as large as her own at Tarth. Brienne ran her fingers over the spines of the leather bound books, inspecting a few, some she recognized others she did not. _When was the last time I curled up with a book?_ She thought mournfully, her heart aching for her own home, and her favorite reading places.

As pleasant as the rooms were she felt confined in its luxury, but she did not dare to venture far from her rooms, the intrigues and gossip of court felt far more dangerous than the open road.

Fortunately she was not forced into wearing a dress. Fine tunics and breeches were sent to her, courtesy of Ser Jaime the servant had said as she placed them in Brienne's room. The fabric of the tunic was finely woven, a lovely shade of dark blue. The first day she happily stayed within the confines of her room, devouring as many of the books as she could, but she was anxious to use her muscles, and to swing a sword. Whenever a knock came to her door she felt a little thrill at the prospect of it being Jaime, perhaps he would take her to the yard to practice. She always felt the fool when it was another servant carrying a tray of yet another meal she would only half eat. _He is Commander of the Kingsguard, he has many duties to attend to… _she repeated the thought again and again.

The second evening of her stay she was half way through a book of songs when unexpectedly a rap on the door interrupted her. She had been summoned to meet the Queen in her private quarters.

As Brienne climbed the stairs towards the Queen's room she hoped that Jaime would be present, two members of the Kingsguard stood on each side of the door, dressed in their magnificent golds and whites, Brienne was disappointed that neither of them was Jaime, one guard broke form, opened the door and announced her presence. The room was aglow with candles, and there was an assortment of delicacies set on the table.

The Queen sat at the table, beckoning Brienne in. She was wearing an embroidered gown, her neck adorned with rubies and pearls. Golden hair cascaded down her back. Jaime's twin was the image of song, ones that knights rode to war for. Brienne wore simple breeches, and a handsome coat, another gift from Jaime.

"Please sit," The beautiful queen nodded to the chair directly across from her.

Brienne sat graciously, she folded her hands in her lap, back straight and head foreword, she may have been a warrior as of late, but her teachings of how a proper lady sat at a formal table was ingrained deeply. Her stomach was in knots, uncertain of the Queen's summons. There was no plate or cup set before her; it did not appear she was to be a dinner guest.

The Queen held a chalice in her hands, swirling the contents, she eyed Brienne with consideration.

"So you are the great beauty that has lured my brother into forgetting his senses," She smiled a smile that did not meet her eyes. "Tell me. Brienne of Tarth. What is it that you have done to capture the heart of my brother?"

"I'm sorry your Grace, I do not know what you are speaking of," Brienne felt the knot in her stomach tighten.

"What are your intentions with Jaime?" The queen sipped her wine, her green unsmiling eyes never leaving Brienne's.

"I have no intentions with Jaime."

"So with someone else then? Sansa perhaps? I've heard rumours about you. Lady Catelyn's pretender knight, sworn to protect the Stark girls. That is treason Lady . Sansa is a murderous bitch. Betrayer to the crown. Do you admit to being in leagues with traitors?"

_She is like a cat_, Brienne thought.

Brienne considered her words. "I believe Lady Sansa will be proven innocent,"

"Do You? I sincerely doubt that." the Queen smiled her false smile again. Brienne's uneasiness grew with that statement.

Cersei rose from her chair, holding her cup, as she sauntered over to Brienne. She tensed as the Queen made her way behind her chair, placing her hands on Brienne's shoulders Cersei leaned forward and whispering into her ear, the smell of her breath thick with honeyed wine. "I don't' care how many times he fucked you. He was always thinking of me you know," The Queen slowly guided her thumb down Brienne's ruined cheek as she said her cruel words. For a moment Brienne entertained the idea of grabbing her thumb and breaking it, it would have been like snapping a twig.

The Queen was intending to antagonize her, she was inviting a violent reaction, an excuse to be rid of her, and Brienne couldn't help but feel an odd sense of satisfaction, knowing that for whatever reason she had managed to rattle the Queen into putting on such a bizarre show.

"I think I will return to my chambers if it pleases your Grace," Brienne stood, quite done with her games.

"Fine," The Queen dismissed Brienne with a wave of her hand, a gesture that people used to shoo away a fly.

Brienne was truly flustered as she left the Queen's chambers. As much as she was dreading Sansa's trial, she couldn't help but wish it would come soon, anxious to have her days at King's Landing over. Brienne quickened her pace, rounded a corner and collided into Jaime.

"Brienne." he seemed stunned to see her. "What are you doing here?" He was freshly shaven, and wearing his Kingsguard armor, white cloak and all. Despite her anger Brienne couldn't help but admire the sight of him.

"Excuse me _Ser_," Brienne pushed her way past him.

"Brienne!" He called after her. Brienne kept walking. _So this is where he's been? _Brienne thought bitterly, cursing herself for thinking otherwise. There was no denying the rage and hurt building inside her. She needed to hit something badly.


	13. Under the Moon

Jaime ran down the steps pursuing Brienne. He had a good idea as to what had attributed to her foul mood. Visits with his sister had a tendancy to leave people sour, himself included as of late. He had managed to avoid Cersei a full day, but when her message came bidding that he visit her, he had reluctantly made the climb to her chambers. Brienne was the last person he expected to find rushing down the halls.

Jaime grabbed Brienne by the arm, unintentionally tearing her jacket. "Damnit woman, stop."

Brienne halted. "Do you think I'm an idiot? Some fool?"

"I don't know what has come over you, but you are acting like a damn fool," Jaime was thoroughly irritated, "You lock yourself away in your rooms since we've arrived, and this is the reception I receive?"

That seemed to stop her in her tracks. He watched in dismay as the shield came over her eyes, she was mentally protecting herself. He'd seen her do this many times, blocking herself from any potential hurt. He hated it that she was doing it with him.

"What has come over you?" He asked calmly.

"I apologize Ser Jaime, do enjoy your evening," Brienne glanced back towards the Queen's rooms, and then back to him. Her eyes expressionless, her large lips tightly drawn. He wanted to kiss her then, certain it would provoke an attack, a busted lip would've been preferable to this numb thing she was invoking.

"You're coming with me," Jaime grabbed her right arm, dragging her down the stairs away from the Queen's chambers.

"Let go! What are you doing?!" Brienne fought him as they made their way down. It wasn't until she glimpsed the the welcomed site of the fighting yard that she stopped resisting. There now she's coming back to me.

Jaime grabbed one of the blunt swords with his left hand, aptly tossing it to Brienne, he selected another for himself, and removed his white cloak. She was already taking off her jacket, moving her shoulders in circles, stretching her long powerful arms. The moon was out and almost full, a silvery glow lit the yard. The air was crisp and from each blade of grass tiny baubles of half-frozen rain drops reflected the light of the moon. Their breath showed with every exhale. He was excited to duel her, it would be nice to fight someone who wasn't Ilyn Payne with his throaty non-laugh of his.

Their swords gently kissed, both testing the feel of their blades. With a nod to each other they silently signaled their readiness. Brienne struck first, a hard blow to his right, which he barely managed to block. She must be angry...

Their blades crossed, and crashed again and again. Jaime was finding he didn't have to think as much, his movements were coming to him more reflexively, more like when he had fought with his right hand.

They danced in the courtyard for some time, neither able to gain ground on the other. Their grunts, huffs, and pants rising up and bouncing off the walls.

"I think I have you this time my lady," Jaime smirked, he wasn't sure why he bothered to antagonize her with words, it never really seemed to work, but old habits died hard. "You know I bested you the last time we fought,"

"I was half dead with fever!" Brienne returned his thrust with a parry.

"Excuses," He forced her back with three quick strikes. Her back was almost to the wall, and she lost the ability to swing wide, which was in his favor as he realized he was becoming exhausted from blocking her swings, he would have to try somethign bold if he was to win. Jaime dipped low, sweeping at her feet with his leg, protecting himself with his sword from any downward blows. Brienne was caught by surprise, and she went down hard. Jaime stood with his sword at her neck. "Yeild." They were both breathing hard, plumes of their breath rising into the night air. Brienne was flushed, her eyes sparkled with life again. Jaime threw his sword down and held out his hand to help her.

"You are such a cheat," Brienne said smiling as she took his hand.

"And you are a sore loser, thats twice now by my count." He grinned knowing he was truly inviting a blow to the face now. Instead she gripped his hand hard and yanked him down. Losing his balance Jaime fell on top of her. Whenever he was with her it always amazed him how his body responded to hers. Pressed against her like this it reminded him of those cold nights camping near the mountains. "Why have you been avoiding me?" Jaime asked, just now fully realizing how hurt he was.

"Me? Avoiding you? I felt like a fool waiting for you. I should've known you'd be preoccupied with your sister."

He simply responded, "No."

It was true, at one point in time Cersei was his sole obsession, but now that he was back at the capital, and near his sister again, there was only sourness and dread. He was supposed to be with her now... Jaime gently moved a strand of wet hair from Brienne's forehead. She flinched slightly looking so frightened and uncertain when he did that. One day she won't shrink away from me. Jaime promised himself as he leaned in to kiss her, hoping to reassure her. Her mouth opened, responding to him, their tongues meeting each other, the rest of the world melted away, and in that moment it was just the two of them.


	14. Sansa

It was late in the evening, nearing morning when Brienne was finally able to see Sansa Stark. Jaime had arranged for her to meet the girl in her rooms where she was being held. She imagined it had cost him half a fortune to secure the rendezvous.

After their fight in the yard, they had spent quite some time discussing the knights of the Kingsguard, their individual strengths and weaknesses, he had been gathering as much information as he could that could be helpful to her. Brienne felt a great sense of pride knowing Jaimie believed in her prowess as a swordswoman, he genuinely felt she could take any of them, with his knowledge of how they fought, she had an edge. Now it was up to her to convince the eldest Stark girl to name her champion, Brienne was hopeful that Sansa would put her trust in her as she was in the service of her mother... a delicate topic she would have to be careful about.

As she made her way to Sansa's rooms, she counted six guards, a mix of gold cloaks as well as some sell swords. It was evident the queen did not intend on letting her prize escape her fingers again.

One of the guards opened the door, stepping aside for Brienne to enter. "Be quick."

The girl sat by a fire, she wore a small cap, blackend locks cascading down her shoulders. She looked at Brienne, she was young and beautiful, yet so full of sorrow. Brienne could see a resemblance to Lady Catelyn, the thought made her sad.

"Lady Sansa, I am Brienne of Tarth. I swore an oath to your mother to deliver you from King's Landing," Brienne had chosen her words carefully, if the girl felt any emotion her face did not show it. Brienne continued, "I implore you to forego a trial at the Queen's hands, I have great reason to believe it will not be a fair trial," There was a hint of something in Lady Sansa's eyes at that comment, but of what Brienne could not make out.

"Please request a trial by combat, select me as your champion." Brienne knelt before the girl.

"It does not matter," Lady Sansa spoke, her voice small.

"I will not fail you my lady, I am a good fighter". Brienne said earnestly

"My only consolation with whatever happens tomorrow is knowing that soon this life with be done," Lady Sansa continued to stare into the fire.

Brienne could feel a fire rising up inside of her, she wanted to shake this girl. _What did I expect? She's lost her father, brothers, betrothed to an rotton King, married to an imp, held hostage by another... I do not blame her for not trusting me._

"Your mother is one of the finest women I've ever known, despite all her hardships she never gave up on you or your sister. It is my greatest hope to deliver you from the foul hands of this wretched queen. You life will be yours, what you choose to do with it when this is all through is up to you."

"Are you his whore?" Lady Sansa asked finally meeting Brienne's gaze.

The question hit Brienne like a slap, "No," Brienne did not avert her eyes from Sansa's.

"How do you know who I am referring to?" Lady Sansa challenged. Despite herself Brienne flushed, and her eyes looked down to the floor.

"Why should I trust a woman who beds Lannisters?"

"I have not bedded any man," Shocked and outraged by the girls blunt questions, Brienne grit her teeth, determined to carry on with her plea. This is not how she had envisioned this nights conversation going. "Lady Sansa, tomorrow you will need to name a champion. I hope you can find it in your heart to trust in me."

"I do not trust in anyone, and you have not seen the Queen's champion. You are a dead woman Brienne of Tarth. I am tired. Please go away." Lady Sansa turned her gaze back to the fire.

Brienne left Sansa feeling dejected. She made her way through the courts and down the halls towards her own rooms. Her meeting with Sansa was unsettling, the girl was like an empty vessel. _You have not seen the Queen's champion..._ Jaime had been so confident that Brienne could take any of the Kingsguard in singular combat.

"Brienne!" Jaime called to her, he walked briskly his white cloak snapping behind him. "You can't go through with this." Concern was etched into his handsome face.

"What?" Brienne asked puzzled.

"There is another knight I didn't know about, a Ser Robert Strong, he was named to the Guard when I was out of the city. There are rumours he does not eat, does not sleep, does not_ bleed_. Brienne I do not like this."

"Impossible." She examined his face, he truly believed what he was saying.

"He has decimated any challengers he's come up against, Cersei names him Tommen's champion for every trial, she has vanquished every enemy she's had at court with his sword. You have to promise me you will not volunteer for this suicide."

"You know I can't do that," Brienne said quietly.

"Damnit Brienne what good will it do to be slaughtered as well? There is always the younger Stark girl."

Brienne was shocked by his suggestion they forego Sansa's life. "I'd rather die trying than to walk away from here a craven! How can you even ask me to consider walking away?" Brienne hissed.

"I can't let you do this you stupid stubborn wench!" He was getting angrier as he realized she wasn't going to budge.

"Some of us don't forsake our vows as easily," Brienne regretted the words as soon as they spilled from her mouth.

His eyes reflected his hurt, she had cut him deep with that comment. "I'm sorry," she added, an attempt to soften the sting of her words.

"I'll have you chained to a wall if I have to... I can't let you do this, we'll find another way," Jaime looked desperately at her, trying to reason. "We can escape with her, tonight." Brienne could see by the look on his face even he didn't believe that was possible.

Brienne held her face to his cheek, it was becoming easier and easier to reach out to him. "I'm sorry Jaime, I have to do this. You know I do."


	15. From White to Red

Brienne gently kissed him on the cheek, smiled shyly, and headed back to her rooms. Jaime stood still his hand pressed to the spot where Brienne's kiss had landed, it was the first time a woman had ever kissed him so tenderly, something about the way she had come to him to deliver the kiss left him feeling warm, and all the more desperate to protect her. He could see that his cautions about Robert Strong were not going to disuade her, Jaime steeled his resolve to try other avenues. Certain she was gone Jaime made the long climb back towards his sisters chambers. Recognizing the guards on duty, he nodded to each, both of whom Brienne could have easily bested in a fair combat. It seemed his sister had other plans... _where was was she hiding this mysterious Robert Strong?_ All he had learned was strange rumors, things that seemed impossible to believe, yet what he did learn set his innards in turmoil.

"You are late," His sister was reclining in a chair, wearing a golden robe, so finely woven, every curve and bend of her body was clearly outlined. Through the sheerness of the material he could see her breasts and nipples, pink and lovely. He felt like telling her to cover up. The thought of what her reaction might be to that made him smile.

"Please share, what is so funny?" The look in her eyes quickly dissipated his smile.

"I'm sorry sister, I was preoccupied," Jaime sat down opposite her, helping himself to wine, there was scant left in the pitcher.

"I know what you were preoccupied with dear brother. I could hear the sows grunts coming up from the yard. Please tell me you were just fighting the beast, or was it more? Were you fucking her too? Did you lose your sight along with that hand?" Jaime gritted his teeth and bit his tongue. She was clearly trying to provoke him.

"I would be careful when criticizing another's choice in supposed bed partners," _Osmond Kettleblack, Lancel, Moonboy..._

She grinned that smile at him, almost like there was a bad taste was in her mouth, "Ugly rumours brother. You should know better than to listen to them."

"As should you," Jaime sipped his wine.

That seemed to calm her some.

"I find it hard to ignore rumours that seem to all point true. I've heard you've been fucking this woman all over the Riverlands. Even if the rumours aren't true, and having a good look at her I suspect not. How can you defend yourself when you are so obviously friendly with an enemy of Tommen? She is here meaning to rob him of the King's justice."

"If Sansa is innocent, the Maid of Tarth will prove victorious," Jaime said.

"Maid?" Cersei scoffed.

Was she jealous? The thought hadn't occurred to him before. And without warning her emotions took another erratic turn.

"Do you have any idea the seven hells I've been through?" She looked genuinely hurt. "Every street rat in this city leered at my naked body, hurled insults, and other disgusting things," Despite his anger towards her, Jaime's heart softened. The thought of his beautiful fierce sister humiliated like that.

She continued, "And where were you? My brother, my _champion_? Where were you? How could you abandon me?" Jaime felt a pit of guilt building inside him. Suddenly he felt that old familiar need to go to her, to comfort her.

"Were you too frightened? I should be thankful you were so craven that day, if I had you as my champion … well we wouldn't be sitting here now would we? Thank the Warrior for Ser Robert." That was what he was waiting for, an opening to ask about this mysterious Robert Strong.

"Who is this knight? Bedding him as well?" Jaime asked, playing the jealous lover. She seemed to enjoy that.

"Ser Robert has been a gift of sorts." Cersei swirled the wine in her cup.

"I'd very much would like to meet this gift of yours," Jaime tried not to sound too eager.

"I think not," Cersei stopped swirling her wine and set her cup on the table.

"As Commander of the Kingsguard, its within my rights to meet this man," Jaime was tired of playing nice with her.

"This would be true if you were Lord Commander, but I have decided to give that title to Ser Robert. Maybe I'll name you as Tommen's champion, it might be fun to watch you and your beast have at it... although that is ridiculous, you would surely loose. I have half a mind to strip you of your white cloak entirely brother. How could I allow my son to be protected by a cripple?" She sneered at him.

Jaime's anger boiled over, "Take it, he ripped off his cloak, throwing it on the table, upsetting her cup, the red wine spilling over her lap and the pristine white of the cloak. I'll replace it with my Lannister Reds and then drape it over the naked shoulders of Brienne of Tarth" He spit the words out at his sister faster than he could process what he was saying.

Cersei's eyes were fire. "Get out!" She screamed at him. "Get out before I have you killed!"

Jaime marched out of her rooms, unbuckling and discarding his armor as he went.

The sounds of her screams, and the noise of her hurling objects from within the room chasing him down the hall.

_Brienne is going to die, Brienne is going to die...simply because I can't hold my temper_. His heart and thoughts were racing fast, he felt like such a fool._ Brienne is going to die_... He leaned with his back against the stone wall, furious and hopeless. The sun was rising in the east, a servant came and snuffed the last torch in the hall, their time was running out.


	16. A Champion is Named

The roar of the crowd was bustling and frantic, as ruthless as the queen regent had been during Tommen's reign, and the ire she had managed to inspire with the people of Kings Landing, Cersei had at least always managed to provide a good show, the crowds were desperate to watch Ser Robert Strong again. To watch another poor hapless soul cut down by his blade. Food and ale carts lined the streets, selling all sorts of fare, for a moment the small people could forget the long winter at their doorstep.

Sansa Stark had elected for a trial by combat, the news travelled quickly through the city like wild fire, she had yet to name her champion, no one could guess who would be stupid enough to volunteer for that task, perhaps some fool who still hoped for a piece of the North.

King Tomen was sitting perched high on the scaffolds, his elegant mother sitting beside him. They were dressed in fine velvets, hers a deep red with white fur trim, he dressed in green, a gold scarf protectively wrapped around his neck. He fiddled at his sleeve with his gloved hand, clearly uninterested in yet another gory battle. His mother slapped his hand and whispered in his ear. The boy cast his look downwards, appearing to be ashamed.

Below them in chains stood Lady Sansa. She wore a simple grey woolen dress, her head in a matching cap, her beautiful face carried the same sad and resigned expression. Brienne's hand clutched Oathkeeper as she stared at Lady Sansa, her thoughts willing her to look in her direction. _Choose me._

Brienne pulled her gaze away from Sansa momentarily to search for Jaime, she expected to find him standing with the other members of the Kingsguard, not finding him with his white cloaked brothers she continued to scan the crowd. The moment was drawing close, Brienne could feel herself becoming desperate, wanting one last opportunity to look upon his face, and then she spied him standing below the scaffolding, he looked as though he hadn't slept at all. As if feeling her eyes on him, he suddenly returned her gaze, and then proceeded to make his way towards her, nudging people aside, his eyes never leaving hers.

The silencing of the crowd pulled her gaze away. The Queen rose from her chair and the murmur of the crowd quieted, she raised her arm to the opposite gates welcoming to the grounds Tommen's champion.

Brienne let out a small gasp. She could never consider herself a giant after seeing this man. He appeared to have a good two or three feet on her. Equally giant was the sword he carried, the width of the blade near measured the length of her hand. It looked considerably heavy..._ and if it is heavy as it looks, that means he is strong._

"Brienne," Jaime had made his way to her side, he was carrying a small bottle with him. She hoped he wasn't drunk. She didn't want her last moments with him to be with an inebriated Jaime. "Take this, he gently handed her the bottle."

"I do not wish to partake Jaime," Brienne attempted to hand back the bottle.

"If things begin to go bad, which I suspect they will..." Jaime was cut off by the Queen's announcement.

"Lady Sansa, you stand here accused of the greatest crime, the death of your King, you have requested a trial by combat, I have found it in my heart to allow you to prove your innocence. Have you chosen your champion?" The Queen was failing miserably at hiding her pleasure.

"I have your Grace," Sansa's voice did not tremble.

Brienne's heart raced, she squeezed her sword.

Sansa held her pretty face up and spoke clearly. "I choose Jaime Lanister." The queen looked as shocked and confused as Brienne felt, the crowd was positively buzzing.

Brienne gathered her wits, "Refuse Jaime, you can refuse," she managed the words out of her constricting throat. "You are a member of the Kingsguard, you can't fight against Tommen's champion." It was then she realized that he was not in his gold and white armor. Cersei's face reflected Brianne's realization, she looked positively stricken. _She still loves him, she will refuse... _Brienne thought with some hope.

When the frenzied whispering and gasps of the crowd died down the Queen stood again and rose her chin with resolve. "So be it."

The words were barely out of the Queen's mouth when she heard Jaime yell, "I accept!"

Everywhere around her Brienne could hear "_The Kingslayer_." She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to hit them all. Instead she stood, stone-faced, her heart burning with fear and rage. _This was not how this was supposed to happen... she was going to lose him._

"By the look in your eyes you're feeling a taste of what I was going through last night, have more faith in me than that wench," He said wench with affection. _He is saying his goodbye's..._

"Promise me you'll stay until this is done, don't leave." His eyes pleaded with her. "Use this if you must." He gingerly placed his hand on hers holding the flask.

Brienne's swallowed a sob, her eyes brimming with tears, she forced them away, refusing to cry in front of him, he did not need that. "I will be right here Ser Jaime." She unsheathed Oathkeeper and guided it into his left hand, and swiftly he was gone, pulled forward by the crowds. Brienne could see him attempting to glance back, he was yelling something to her, but she could not make out his words over the noise of the spectators.

Brienne pushed her way to the front, dreading what was to happen next.


	17. A Death

He held up Oathkeeper before the crowd a dangerously gorgeous black blade of valyrian steel with ripples of red, like veins. He was greeted with a sensational mix of boos, hisses, and jeers, a great number of people could be heard chanting "_Kingslayer_". There was usually an abundance of bets being placed, it was clear to anyone who had seen Robert Strong fight that the odds were stacked against Jaime Lannister, no one wanted to risk their coin on a one-handed Kingslayer, but they would love to watch him die. Jaime didn't dare look towards his sister, she who had been so quick to send him to his death. He made a great attempt in avoiding glancing towards Brienne, he didn't think he could stand to see that pained expression those eyes again, he had said what he needed her to do, he would have to trust that she would do what was necessary, and she was easy to trust. Armor was brought to him and as he suited up, he enjoyed the fantastic waves of excitement coursing through his body at the thought of entering a battle arena again, it had been too long. He had resigned himself into knowing that this was most likely his last battle, but _by Gods I'm going to give them a show. Let them see the left handed Kingslayer!_

Jaime eyed his opponent as the strap of his armor was tightened. "Bring me a heavy shield, a _very_ heavy shield." Robert Strong's torso looked like a tree trunk. Jaime hoped he moved like one...

Once fully suited, Jaime entered the battleground and approached his massive opponent. His plan was to dodge and parry as many blows he could, borrowing from Brienne's strategy, his hope was to tire his opponent enough to land a few strikes of his own. The rumors were that the man never tired, Jaime sincerely hoped those rumors were exaggerations. The rumors also said Ser Robert Strong did not bleed, and that seemed ludacris.

Robert Strong's large hulking frame moved forward, raising his monstrously gigantic blade the dark knight attacked first, with a mighty swing that Jaime barely managed to dodge, surprised by the speed and strength behind the knights swing, Strong's sword missing Jaime bit into the dirt, pulling it out of the earth before Jaime could land a blow to his side. _Gods he is faster than I'd hoped_.

They repeated this dance, Jaime barely dodging each thunderous blow, and occasionally managing to land strikes to Strong's legs, and torso, the dark knight seemed not to be affected by any of Jaime's attacks. Instead of exhausting his opponent Jamie was realizing he was the one tiring.

Another swing came hard towards Jaime, this time Strong's attack bit into the ground a little deeper, as Robert bent down to pull his sword out of the ground Jaime with incredible speed and accuracy swung backhanded towards the unarmored expossed sliver of the monsters neck. He couldn't believe the sound to follow was actually Robert Strong's head rolling, clanging in its helmet. Oathkeeper cut through the beasts flesh like a silken scarf.

A mighty roar erupted from the crowd, Jaime grinned in disbelief and then yelled in triumph holding his sword and shield in the air. He looked desperately for Brienne, she looked physically stunned, beautiful big blue eyes brimmed with tears, she was breathing almost as heavy as Jaime. The Lady Sansa blinked in disbelief, Cersei remained in her seat surprisingly unmoved, _well at least Little Tommen seems happy,_ the little king stood on his chair clapping excitedly. A gasp emerged from the crowd. Jaime turned to see what had stunned the crowd, unbelievably the beheaded body of Strong lifted itself from the dirt and charged clumsily at him sword in hand. Jaime managed to bring his sword up in time to parry the blow, but his grip was not prepared for the attack. Oathkeeper flew from his hand arching hight in the air, heading in the direction of the stands.

He heard a blood curdling scream in the distance, but could not look, his sole focus never deviating from the monsters unrelenting attacks, and blocking the strikes with his sheild. The headless creature was swinging with a forceful vigor. Jaime's shield cracked with each connection he was amazed they shield hadn't yet splintered.

Without warning there was an incredible burst of heat, followed by a quick flash of green and then the familiar smell of burning hair and flesh. _Gods she took long enough..._

The green flames engulfed Robert Strong and yet he continued to walk upright unrelentingly towards Jaime. The monster was decapitated and lit aflame yet Jaime was still forced to dodge the occasional swings. Robert Strong did not yell or scream, only the sounds of audible hiss came from the dark knight as he cooked in his armor, and then finally after a few terrible minutes the monster finally collapsed in a heap.

When it was over Jaime did not stand triumphantly before the crowds seeking cheers, too stunned and exhausted he slunk down to the ground. Brienne was the first to come to him, she forced him to his feet. "Move!" She amazingly had Sansa with her.

Then he realized the pandemonium of the crowd, it wasn't for him and his victory... "The king is dead! The king is dead!" Women, men, children, they were all crying, "The king is dead!"


	18. Escape

It was insanity to think they could get very far, but she had to try, it was too maddening to have their quest end in the frenzied streets of Kingslanding. Using the advantage of the complete chaos that had ensued at the battlegrounds, Brienne attempted to pull a half-stunned and exhausted Jaime and Sansa along with her. People were clamoring to get to the scene of where Tommen had been killed, to catch a glimpse of the distraught Queen. The look of horror on Cersei's face as she screamed in agony over the loss of her last child had been terrible. A truly awful sight, Oathkeeper flung from Jaime's hand had gone straight through Tommen's chest and pinned the poor boy to his chair. Too consumed with the death of the little King, no one paid attention to Brienne as she freed Sansa and then made her way towards Jaime.

Her nerves were frayed from the mix of emotions she had experienced at the battle ground, she breathed in steadily, forcing herself to focus on what needed to be done, she couldn't imagine what Jaime was going through. _ He had been so brilliant_, Brienne thought, her heart swelling up with pride. She thought she was going to squeal like some idiot girl when the head of that monster knight fell from its shoulders, and then came the horror of his reanimated corpse.

She had been clutching the bottle Jaime had given her throughout the battle she had quite forgotten about the flask gripped in her hands, too consumed with the peril Jaime had been in, _Remember the baths_, he had said... and when she had realized what he had given her, she knew she had to act quickly._ Wildfire!_ He had brought it for her to use. _What was he thinking?_ His desperation to save her from an uneven match had proven useful, only he couldn't have thrown it himself, he had counted on her to do the dishonorable thing, to light his opponent on fire. Brienne felt not one ounce of remorse.

Brienne continued to punch, push and shove her way through the crowd. They turned onto a smaller and quieter alley with many doors leading to small households, an old man stood in his doorway, broom in hand. Brienne pushed the man back into his home, he yelled, but was weak and easily moved. Once inside she spied an elderly woman stoking a fire, preparing their midday meal. It was a small and meager house, but it was away from the main streets, and would allow them a moment to regroup and form a plan of escape.

The sounds outside in the streets were getting louder, a thunder of shouts, screams, and skirmishes spreading as word traveled from household to household about Tommen's death. The city sounded as if it was going to tear itself apart.

Sansa was the first to speak, "We cannot stay here." She said her words calmly and matter-of-factly.

"No, we can't." Brienne looked to the elderly man whose home they had invaded. "We need horses, and we need a change of clothes for all of us, mens clothing with helms". She threw him a sack full of coins.

The man looked inside the purse and exclaimed, "By the Seven,"

_That was a good sign._.. but she couldn't take any chances.

"If you betray our presence here to anyone," Brienne paused. "I will cut your wifes throat." She hated the words as they left her mouth.

The man pleaded as he made his way out of the house terrified, Sansa attempted to calm the sobbing woman.

The bells came then, each clang announcing the King's death. Jaime sat in a chair, still looking dazed, he mumbled, "I should go to her, she'll need me,"

Brienne swallowed a bitter mix of annoyance, sorrow, and jealousy. She didn't know what would meet Jaime if he managed to make it back to the Red Keep. His sister in her grief might blame him for Tommen's death, and she wasn't confident that whatever they had once would save him from her wrath. Cersei had already resigned herself to sending him to what she thought was a sure death once today, she had to be bold and make a plea. Gathering up her courage Brienne knelt down, grabbing his face gently in her hand, guiding his gaze to her own. "Jaime you cannot go back there, we can't get out of here without you. Your time there is done. Please. I need you."

He stared at her, his mind working trying to comprehend what she was saying, and what he should do.

Finally he spoke. "We need to go to Casterly Rock,"

Lady Sansa still holding the elderly woman stood stone-faced staring at them, Brienne could see the betrayal in Lady Sansa's eyes. _Gods she thinks we are like the rest of them..._ Brienne knew that Jaime was right, to try and flee North immediately would be fraught with hazards, everyone would suspect it. In the west they could regroup, they would have the time to tell the poor girl about her mother, to be in a safe place to help her recover from that news. Although how one recovered from that sort of news Brienne did not know.

The old man returned with the items she had requested, plain mens garb, helms, a sword and a dagger.

"I'm sorry I couldn't secure horses, the streets are filled with people, it is pure madness out there. " The man looked frazzled and weary. Brienne felt sorrow for scaring him and his poor wife. She forced herself to push those thoughts away and selected clothing to change into. For once she was thankful for the cold weather, they were able to wear scarves to help hide their faces. Sansa had thrown her hair back into a ponytail, and covered her face in soot, but it did not help much, she still looked a little lady dressed in men's clothing, but it was going to have to suffice.

Outside was utter chaos. A multitude of fights were breaking out, they couldn't walk more than five paces without having to dodge another skirmish. Women were being attacked in the streets, homes were being sacked, and fires were breaking out, several plumes of smoke could be seen rising from all sides. Brienne held her dagger ready, a smaller blade would be much more useful in this crowd. As they progressed slowly towards King's Gate she was forced to make to use of the blade, several times. Brienne was grateful that Jaime had managed to come to his senses, he guided them forward, she could never have navigated these streets without him. They reached the gates only to be greeted by the sound of the chains pulling them closed.

"What madness is this?" Brienne couldn't believe that someone would give the order to close the gates to the city, hundreds were trying to flee the carnage inside, and Brienne was sure hundreds more were at each gate.

"There!" Jaime could see the guards who were pulling the chains to close the gates, four on each side, with three armed men on the stairs repelling any common folk who came too close.

"Stand to the wall Sansa, stab anyone who comes near you." Brienne thrust the dagger in Sansa's hand and pushed her back to the wall. Jaime and Brienne made quick eye contact, without a word they set out to do what had to be done. If they didn't kill these guards, they would be trapped in the burning city, along with the innocents who were desperately trying to escape.


	19. Onwards

Thanks to all of those leaving reviews, so much appreciated! Now back to the story...

Leaving Sansa against the wall, Brienne pushed and shoved the frantic people aside as she made her way towards the guards stationed at the gates. There were a few posted on the stairs leading to the top of the balcony as well as four more positioned at the chains. Brienne unsheathed her sword as she climbed the left stair; Jaime climbed the stairs on the right, knocking one of the guards down as he came to meet him, managing to wrestle his blade away he proceeded to climb the stairs. The plan was to meet in the middle atop of the gates; they needed to pull the chains to open the doors.

Brienne made easy work of the first guard to come at her, delivering a blow to his guts, he curled over as she threw him to the side, he screamed as he tumbled into the frenzy below. The second guard put up more of a fight, their swords met, Brienne put all her strength into the pushing him away from her, as he stumbled back she swung fiercely forcing him back further yet, losing his balance his steps faltered and fell back. Taking the opportunity presented to her Brienne finished him, opening his throat in a gory mess that made a scene on the wall.

Jaime had finished off his guards, leaving only the four remaining at the chains. Brienne wished she had more time to enjoy the thrill of fighting alongside Jaime, but the crowd below was growing thicker, people were screaming as they were being crushed. They needed to make quick work of these men. Steel clashed furiously at the top of the balcony, Jaime and Brienne delivered quick clean deaths to the guards hastily.

Their efforts did not go unnoticed as several men emerged from the crowd to assist them in pulling the chains. Jaime shrank away from the work as they pulled on the chains. He wasn't going to be much help in this endeavour; Brienne's heart sympathized with him as she studied the bitterness crossing his face. Blessedly the gates opened allowing the frantic people to escape; Brienne took a moment to survey the scene of the city behind her. There were hordes of people crushing each other, funnelling their way into the narrow passages of the streets. Brienne looked to her left, to Lion's Gate in the far distance, it too had been shut, and she could see there was a vast crowd gathered there as well. The thick plumes of smoke had increased throughout the city; she looked up to the dark sky and prayed for another rain.

"The Stark girl!" Jaime pointed to Sansa.

Sansa was holding two men at bay with her dagger, a warning glare etched on her pretty face, the men did not look all that intimidated. Jaime bounded down the stairs, with more grace than Brienne could ever hope for. Despite the crowd he managed to make his way to the scene quickly, stabbing one man through the torso, and slitting the throat of the other.

Sansa stood wide eyed, not believing who her rescuer was. Jaime encircled his right arm around the girls and pulled her back towards Brienne and the gate. The three of them flowed out of the city along with the other poor people who were desperately trying to escape.

They had walked for hours, the masses of common folk thinned as they travelled. The down pour Brienne had prayed for came, cold and brief rains, but welcomed, she hoped they would help put the fires out at King's Landing. Eventually they met some men willing to sell their horses, and a few provisions for an exorbitant rate, in a matter of a few days they would be at Casterly Rock and their diminishing purse would be of little concern.

They travelled until dusk, moving away from the road they made camp for the coming night, it was chilly, but not as cold as it had been near the mountains. Jaime took the horses to drink as Brienne prepared camp, making a fire and laying out their blankets for the evening, Sansa sat silently eating a meagre amount of stale bread and cheese. The poor girl had said nothing since their harrowing escape from the capital. She looked like she was going to pass out as she chewed. Brienne left the dagger with her, instructing her to call out if any one approached, Sansa nodded mutely, Brienne left her to search for Jaime.

She found him under a tree, he had removed his golden hand and was examining the stump, his skin looked raw from the wear of the days fighting. His expression was distant, like he was replaying the strange events of the day over again in his mind.

_How could one day hold so many hours?_ Brienne thought feeling the exhaustion settle in her bones, her heart ached for what Jamie must be going through, she wanted to comfort him, but thought it was best to leave him be. She turned to return to the camp when in the darkness he called for her.

"Brienne?" His head was bent down, his eyes unmoving from his severed hand. She started back to him, closing the distance between them. Kneeling down without fear or hesitation Brienne gathered him into her arms. She held him close, his sorrow muffled in her embrace. When he calmed she helped him up, they didn't say a word to each other and headed back to the warmth of the fire.

Lady Sansa was where Brienne had left her, but now sleeping upright and still clutching the hilt of the dagger.

"I have first watch," Brienne covered Lady Sansa with a blanket, the girl didn't stir.

Jaime without argument lay down beside the fire; it did not take long for him to drift away. Brienne never taking her eyes off of him watched him sleep. She didn't know what was to happen in the coming days ahead, but she knew he needed her, and she was determined to be his armour until he needed her no more.


	20. The Desk

It had been years since he had come home to Casterly Rock, since he was a boy he knew that it was all promised to him, the castle, the lands, and everything with it, but he truly never cared. He was the golden boy, privileged, wealthy, every need and whim was catered to, and he had purposefully run away from it all.

Long ago he had resigned himself with the fact that he was never going to be the Lord of Casterly Rock, he had welcomed the notion, some semblance of control of his own life. True he had in large part forsaken his claim for his obsessive love of Cersei, but there had been that youthful longing to be admired for his deeds like the heroes in the songs, and not just for his famous name.

The moment he donned the white cloak, and his years at war had shown him the ugliness of the world outside Casterly Rock, had seen the misery of the small folk who hadn't had the great luck of being born into nobility. Brienne had opened his eyes to many things he had thought he had left behind.

The thought of who he was in others eyes had always been a point of contention between he and his father.

_Lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep_,.. or something to that effect. It was easy enough for Tywin Lannister to hold this line of reasoning, he was never known as the _Kingslayer_.

It felt strange to be sitting at his father's stately oak desk, performing the duties he had spent years running away from. At the desk he was surrounded by copious amounts of scrolls and papers. There were so many letters to answer, and so many debts to settle.

_Where in the blazes is she_? Jaime thought, anxious to get this part of his day over with so he could get to the yard and spar with Brienne.

She had helped him through the most trying moments of his life, first with the loss of his sword hand and then with the death of Tommen. He had blamed himself for weeks for the boy's death, but she stubbornly refused to let him wallow in guilt. She was a constant friend and companion, pulling him out of the darkness; she had helped him see that though he didn't have pages to fill in the white book he could still be the author of his own life.

In more practical ways Jaime had also been depending on Brienne to write his correspondences for him. They had been at Casterly Rock for months, and Westeros was still reeling from the events at King's Landing. He was attempting to maintain calm at least within his own lands. It was early in the winter yet, and gold still carried weight and the Rock had plenty of it. Jaime knew that if the winter was to persist as long as many had predicted the value of gold would diminish with each passing year. He was purchasing as much preservable foods as he could, salted fish from the Riverlands, dried fruits from the southern lands, and as much flour as he could find everywhere else.

Brienne finally entered the study; she was dressed in fitted leather breeches and tunic. Having something custom tailored for her really did wonders. Jaime couldn't help but admire her long legs as she made her way towards him. She nodded as she sat in the chair opposite to him.

"My Lord." the corner of her mouth lifted as she greeted him. _She is becoming more and more comfortable here, if I didn't know any better I think she was teasing me. _The thought pleased him.

She picked up her pen and prepared a scroll. "So who is first?"

It had become routine for them to sit across from each other at his father's desk, he dictate, and she write. They would spend a few hours in the morning sorting out what messes they could... and there were plenty.

There had been so many disturbing rumours throughout Westeros, miraculously his sister had somehow managed to maintain control of the throne, but near every lord in the kingdom was threatening to rise up against her. Bandits were running amuck in the Riverlands, and there were strange and disturbing tales from North, not to mention the rumours about a Targaryen Princess with an army accompanied by several dragons. The number of dragons varied depending on the week.

Jaime reluctantly handed Brienne the scroll he'd been holding on to since it arrived in the morning. The sigil of her house stamped in blue wax. Brienne's eyes sparkled at the site of it.

_So she is homesick..._

Her long elegant fingers unrolled the scroll, as she read the words her smile disappeared, her face turned pale.

"Is it news of your father?" Jaime was certain the look on her face could only mean one thing.

She shook her head, stood up and walked towards the window, crumpling the paper in her fist. "He promised," Her voice was tight and shaky.

"What is it?" Jaime asked.

"He is requesting I return immediately. He has betrothed me to Hyle Hunt." She could barely get out the words.

Jaime felt his stomach drop; his heart pounded furiously, and he gritted his teeth.

Brienne turned to look at him her brows furrowed a mix of sadness and anger.

"You will not return to Tarth, because you are going to marry me."

"Is that a demand or proposal?" Brienne asked shocked.

"Perhaps both." Jaime had felt something shift inside of him weeks ago, maybe more, but now the thought of losing her to someone else stirred his fires. She is mine. _ I will throw her on top of these scrolls and take her maidenhead on this very table if that is what will destroy this betrothal._

He stood and made his way to her, prepared to take her, he was determined to be as convincing as he could. He felt she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, and if she didn't he would change her mind. They had both been insufferably honourable in not letting their advances go too far, it had been a torturous last few months.

_This could be the excuse we've needed_. Jaime grabbed Brienne gently putting his arms around her waist. Her eyes met his, he could see the longing there. He moved in towards her, she shyly moved her head to the side to avert from his gaze, he took the opportunity to land soft kisses at her neck. Slow and gentle kisses that quickly progressed; he licked and bit at her neck, revelling in every moan and gasp that escaped her plump lips. He grabbed her chin and continued to kiss her full one the mouth, enjoying the sensation of her willingness to return his passionate kisses, their tongues darting in and out to meet each others. He pushed her towards the desk, pulling her leg up, and pushing her down onto its surface, she sat with her legs slightly apart as he moved in closer, cursing her affinity for breeches, wishing he had a skirt to hoist up to her thighs instead. She pulled him in closer and removed his tunic, gently rolling up the sides and pushing it over his head; she worked her fingers over his stomach and chest, her fingers and hands caressing him. He mentally willed her touches to go lower.

Jaime leaned onto Brienne, holding her in his arms as he pushed her back onto the desk continuing to land kisses on her mouth and neck. With his left hand he began to unlace her tunic, delighting in the softness of her skin. He was positively throbbing and ready to do what he had been aching to for months.

Her eyes were shut, head back, her lips silently pleading with him to continue. She opened her eyes to look at him, confused as to why he had paused.

"Not like this."

"Jaime?" Brienne looked up at him, her gorgeous blue eyes puzzled.

"You are going to be my wife. I want to do everything right by you." Jaime half cursed himself as he pulled away from her. He picked up his tunic off the floor and attempted to calm his breathing.

Brienne was quiet as she began to lace up, her face was down and he couldn't read her expression.

_Gods I hope I haven't hurt her..._ He thought mournfully.

When finished she looked up at him her face was flushed with her want, and with a slight grin, "To the yards then?"


	21. A Kindness

Brienne had written to her father that morning announcing her betrothal to Jaime. She could not marry Hunt. Hyle Hunt was never the worst of them, he was very matter of fact in his proposals, and he never made a play at her emotions, which she found more palatable than the others.

How he had survived Lady Stoneheart's gallows she didn't know, she did not mind admitting there was relief knowing he was alive. It was curious that he had travelled to Tarth and had the gall to request her hand directly from her father. Perhaps it was a plea on her father's part for her to return home, it had been too long since she had looked upon his face. She hoped he would make the effort to visit her for the wedding. Brienne bit her lip, an attempt to stifle the grin coming to her face. She had never truly thought she would marry, had purposely gone years parrying proposals, and now he heart fluttered whenever she thought of Jaime and becoming his wife. He knew who she was, and he welcomed it.

They had both been too excited to focus on the tedious scrolls after the events of the morning. She sent her note of refusal on the wings of a raven, off to Tarth, and they made their way to the yards, sparring until mid-day.

They both desperately needed to exert themselves and fought with a mixture of fervour and playfulness. Jaime shamelessly teasing and joking in between blows, and Brienne found herself laughing barely managing to block, a cheap tactic of his that usually had no effect, but her mood was a happy one after the morning's events. Brienne knew they must have made a giddy sight to the spectators that gathered to watch.

During her time at Casterly Rock Brienne recognized that Jaime's servants and attendees where no different than all the others she had encountered in her life, they looked at her strangely, and made no efforts to befriend her. There had been many occasions when she would enter a room and women who had been chirping and giggling would become tight lipped once they saw her. They probably couldn't fathom their gorgeous Jaime Lannister with this large, muscular, and disfigured woman. When Brienne was with him, especially when they were sparring she thought little of her appearance; her work with the sword had always been a relief, something she was good at, something no one could deny. Hurtful words and strange glances from looker-on's obliviated by the sounds of their clashing swords.

When they had finished their sparring, they were covered in sweat grinning and breathing heavy. He surprised her suddenly with a kiss, full and passionate upon her lips. When he released her, he winked, turned on his heel and left her stupefied and standing in the yard. Brienne stood blushing; he had never been so brazen to show his affections for her in such a public manner. She reluctantly gave a brief glance to those who had been watching their sparring. An assortment of reactions met her, some with knowing smiles; others surprised and lifted eyebrows, even a few expressions of jealousy from some of the other women. Brienne gulped, put her head down, moved a hand through her hair and quickened her pace back to her quarters. The spectators silently watched her as she hurried away.

Brienne made her way to her room and shut the door behind her, thankful for the heavy weight of the wood against her back. Brienne made her way to the large basin in her room; she was drenched in sweat from her session with Jaime in the yard and needed to change. With each article of clothing she removed she discovered a bruise or mark, reminders of her fights in the yard with Jaime, she smiled as the tips of her fingers lightly touched one yellowing bruise at her ribs, he had pushed into her hard and she had answered with a head butt, when he stumbled back she had taken the opportunity to best him, holding her blade to his throat and demanded he yield. He had done so with a reluctant smile, dropping his sword and holding his hand to his temple where their heads had collided. She had seen the blood falling from his forehead and dropped her sword, ripping at her tunic to make a bandage.

Most days she was the victor in their spars, but he was steadily narrowing her victories, soon they would be evenly matched, and then Brienne wasn't certain she could beat him if he kept up his rate of progression.

Once washed and changed Brienne made her way to the library where she knew Lady Sansa would be absorbed. The little lady often spent the majority of her days in the impressive Lannister library. Brienne would never say that Lady Sansa seemed happy, but she did seem much more content in the last few weeks. Sharing the tale of her mother's fate had been extremely difficult, but if there was any saving grace to Jaime's combat with Robert Strong it was that such a thing could be possible. That her poor dead mother could be reanimated, that their story could hold some truth. For the weeks that followed Lady Sansa had taken all her meals in her room, eventually as time wore on she made her way out and found the library. It was there that Brienne found her sitting in a chair, her legs curled up beneath her a large tome spread over her lap.

"A book of hero's legends, My Lady?" Brienne asked.

Sansa looked up from her book and then back down again. "No, I don't care much for those anymore. This one is about useful healing herbs and plants." It sounded very dull to Brienne, but she was glad Sansa was not alone in her room.

They had mutually decided that it was best for Sansa to stay at Casterly Rock until the North had calmed some, there were too many unknown dangers and risks, and the sad truth was Lady Sansa didn't really have anywhere else to go. Word had spread of Jaime's victory at King's Landing over the Queen's champion and it had given them both hope that it would help to quell Stoneheart's anger, and any planned retribution. Casterly Rock was most certainly the safest place for them all, and although it was easy to forget, she was Tyrion's wife, this home was hers as well. No one had heard from Jaime's brother, no one knew if he was alive or dead. Sansa did not seem to be concerned either way.

"I came to share news with you, I hope you will be happy for me," Brienne interrupted Sansa's reading.

The girl looked up impassively.

"Jaime and I have decided to wed." Brienne bit her lip again to keep that foolish grin from setting upon her face. She needn't have tried so hard, the words that fell from Sansa's mouth aptly wiped it away.

"So I suppose the rumours weren't completely unfounded?" Sansa looked back down at her book, turning a page. "Is that all?"

Brienne wasn't sure what she had been expecting by sharing this news with Sansa. The girl barely spoke unless asked a question, and when she did speak it was always direct, like she was trying to get the conversation over as quickly as possible. Brienne had a realization that this is probably how most people perceived her. Her words too were always curt, mostly because she was too afraid of being hurt in some way over her own awkwardness. It was strange to think that this beautiful girl could ever feel the same as Brienne, they had both experienced more than their share of pain and hurt.

Brienne stood to leave, feeling helpless and not confident in her abilities to stitch together the necessary words of kindness to reach out to the girl. A sudden impulse stopped her from leaving the room. Brienne turned and knelt at Sansa's chair, the girl looked up shocked.

"What are you doing?" Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Sansa I'm sorry for all your hardships, I'm sorry for what happened to your family. To live through this much loss and pain is unjust, and unfair. You most certainly did not deserve this, and I think it must be incredibly cruel to now live under the roof of the family who wrought this misery down upon your head. I am sorry for that." Brienne looked at the girl the entire time she spoke, hoping her eyes would convey her sincerity. Without warning the girl's face crumpled and a few silent tears came upon her cheeks, a small cry escaped her mouth. Brienne grabbed her and hugged her close, Sansa's sobbing body convulsing against her.

Brienne held the girl for some time, and when she looked Jaime was standing at the door, his expression she could not read.


	22. Dark Wings, Dark Words

"There was another scroll, we need to speak." Jaime stood at the door.

Brienne squinted her eyes in disbelief, she recognized the seal instantly, it was the royal seal of King Tommen.

Brienne followed Jaime out of the library giving Sansa's hand a gentle squeeze as she left.

Jaime and Brienne walked down the great hall and once they were well away he stopped at a small window, he was still tightly clutching the scroll.

"She is demanding my presence at court." Jaime gazed out the window toward the east. Towards the capital, towards his sister…

"She said 'my crimes will be forgiven if I return to my station as Commander of Kingsguard'."

Brienne wanted to plead with him... No! Please no!, but instead she bit her lip, and kept silent.

"I'm not going," Jaime stated, as he crumpled the scroll in his fist.

Brienne exhaled, not realizing she was holding her breath.

"She will not like my refusal, my sister does not take 'no' well." Jaime turned to Brienne, he pulled her towards him, like he was trying to protect her from some invisible foe, Brienne leaned into his embrace.

"She surely must blame me for Tommen," Jaime whispered into her ear.

"She is using his seal," Brienne pulled away slightly, looking into his green eyes. "How can she if he's…"

Jaime shook his head realizing where Brienne was going with her thoughts. "No, I can't believe she would do that…" but Brienne could see the seeds of doubt growing in his eyes.

You know perfectly well what she's capable of. Using whatever dark magic she had at her disposal to reanimate her dead child, if that is what it took to hold on to her fragile claim to power. Jaime looked down, averting his eyes. How he could have ever loved her… Brienne quickly pushed those thoughts away as they came to her, as she often did when she would think about Jaime's past, of the things he had done. He is a new man, an honorable man. The words came to her like almost like a chant. She knew she was hopelessly in love with him, it was not a flighty girlish imagining like she had had with Renly. Her love had more gravity, she had been through the Seven Hells with Jaime Lannister, and like a strongly crafted sword their love was forged in its fires. Whatever may yet come she truly believed she could handle it, as long as he was by her side. She was half terrified of her feelings for him, she hated to admit it, but she wasn't certain he felt the same about her, there was affection certainly, but his sister had a powerful hold on him. Whenever he spoke of Cersei, she could always see something in his eye, like a warm memory floating to the surface. Casterly Rock held so many of their memories, ones he shared with his twin, a world that Brienne was never a part of, even in his sisters absence her presence permeated every stone. Brienne often imagined the both of them jumping on horses and riding away from the Rock and the mocking eyes of the people, they could ride away and never return.

As if he could sense those sad thoughts coming to her he caressed the side of her face with his good hand, gently moving his thumb closer to her mouth, and resting it on her bottom lip. The feeling of his skin on hers sent delightful shivers down the back of her spine.

"I have to stop, because I'm going to kiss you again wench," He said with affection, "And if I do we're going to have to go to the yards, and I am exhausted from our last 'bout, and positively covered in bruises."

She grinned at him loving the feel of his embrace and kind words, she closed her eyes hoping he would lean in to kiss her. When he did she parted her lips slightly welcoming his warm mouth and tongue on hers. Their kisses became hungrier. Her heart beat fast, and her breathing became more erratic. His hand found her backside and squeezed hard, it was painful, but also enjoyable. Brienne bit his bottom lip in response.

"Ahem."

Brienne jumped away from Jaime, the noise of the servant shocking them both.

"What is it?" Jaime hissed as he straightened his clothing, looking more annoyed than anything.

"Apologies my lord, there is a scroll…"

"I swear to the Gods I am going to rip the head off of every raven we have," Jaime cursed as he aggressively grabbed the scroll from the man's hand.

The frightened servant had the good sense to hurry away.

The seal was black, it was a message from the Wall.

Jaime handed the scroll to Brienne to read, her fingers more apt at handling the small paper.

"Every able-bodied fighter come to the Wall at once in defence of the realm,"

Jaime and Brienne looked at each other trying to comprehend the message.

"A trick of Stannis?" Jaime questioned. They knew he was north, and from all reports recovering from his losses.

"But why would he ask for all fighters in the realm?" Brienne asked, "It is also sealed with the black of the Night's Watch, not his own seal".

Jaime nodded.

"Do we answer?" Brienne asked.

"No. I need more information, I will not risk any more lives on a cryptic note." Jaime said with authority. "I will send a few men north to gather more information,"

Brienne looked out the window, an uncomfortable feeling of dread was moving through her. Outside it was snowing again.


	23. The Sapphire Star

The afternoon was brisk and a fresh snow lay on the ground, but they had seen colder days in the last few weeks that seemed to drag on forever. It was their wedding day, and the Rock was bustling with activity.

Several great fires burned inside, helping to keep away the chill. The great hall was decorated with dried flowers, red and yellow roses as well as some tiny blue flower that Jaime could not identify, remainders of the summer that had passed; large silken ribbons of red, blue and gold were hung from every imaginable place, their colours joined together, as soon he and Brienne would be. His wife to be had protested at any kind of extravagance, but upon seeing the joy it brought dear little Sansa to plan and decorate for the wedding she couldn't help but let the girl have her way.

Jaime was never one to take the time in admiring decorative details, but he had to admit the hall had a definite... sweetness about it. He reasoned that with the happiness building up inside of him the hall could of been decorated with sheep dung and he would have thought it lovely.

Brienne of Tarth was to be his, and he was to be hers. He felt a foolish grin growing on his face as the thought came to him. He did his best to hide it as two ladies giggled and hurried by. He had the distinct feeling he had failed miserably.

In front of him at the end of the aisle stood the great old Septon Jaime inhaled nervously, his chest feeling very tight all of a sudden, as he walked forward he nodded to those he recognized. The ceremony would begin soon, it could be over and done within the hour. The tediousness out of the way he could begin his life with Brienne. He was sure she would be more than happy to have it over and done with quickly as well. She was not the kind to enjoy the gazes of strangers. He had made a special request of the Septon to make haste with the proceedings.

People from all over Lannisport and surrounding lands made their way into the hall all finely dressed, everyone curious to see the golden handed Jaime and his now famous bride to be, Brienne the Beauty. The name had been used against her as an insult, there was no denying she was not fair to look upon, but Brienne was the most beautiful woman in the Kingdom in Jaime's mind. Her heart was an unending well of love, forgiveness, and kindness. He knew that she deserved better than him, someone nobler with less of a taint on his reputation. Fortunately for Jaime most men couldn't see beyond her fierce exterior, but there was that Hyle Hunt... just thinking about the twits name was enough to slightly sour his jovial mood. Brienne had written to her father inviting him to the wedding, the only reason they had waited weeks, she had hoped she would hear back, a raven with a few words be they dark or light would have put her more at ease. Lord Selwyn did not reply, the only dark cloud on their bright and lovely day.

Jaime made his way to the front of the hall where the Septon waited for him, he took his place and waited for her...

They waited for an uncomfortable amount of time. Jaime had known brides to take an exorbitant amount of time on their wedding day to fuss and perfect their clothing and hair, but his Brienne was not cut from that cloth. The musicians had been playing throughout, and when they became to strum a song he recognized from his walk down the aisle, he began to worry.

Sansa was the first to move, she hurried away her long skirts in hand, turning down the hall towards Brienne's quarters. It was all Jaime could do to stand in place and not follow the girl out. Murmurs and whispers spread like wild fire amongst the guests. He thought he heard someone whisper, "Thought it would be him running away..." If Jaime could have found the one who uttered that sentence he would have ripped his tongue straight out of his wretched mouth. Instead he stood in place still and expressionless, feeling worried, anxious, fearful and foolish. A mix of emotions he hadn't had to mask in quite some time. A mask he had perfected when he served as a member of the Kingsguard.

Jaime felt a sudden wave of dread wash over him, he moved from his place, his long crimson Lannister cloak embroidered in gold trailing behind him. He practically ran down the halls towards Brienne's room, the door was open and inside was Sansa Stark. The girl looked at him with a pained expression. On Brienne's bed her wedding gown was laid out, a beautiful fabric the color of sapphires, intricately threaded with silver, another one of Sansa's persuasions. Lying beside her bridal gown was the sword he had ordered forged for her. _The Saphire Star..._

It was not the sword that Oathkeeper had been, but it was a beauty. Excellent steel, elegantly engraved with moons and starbursts, the hilt inlaid with sapphires. Most husbands would have given their brides to be a bauble or jewelled trinket of some kind to wear on their wedding day, but Jaime knew that this was what would have made her most happy. He had taken her for a ride that day to the caves of his youth, to show her his favourite haunts as a child. She was not the kind of woman that was happy being cooped up inside the castle walls day in and day out. She had gladly accepted his invitation to explore. They had enjoyed a lunch of smoked meats and cheese while he shared the mischievous antics of a young Jaime Lannister, careful to exclude any stories that included his sister. Brienne had wiped a tear from her eye and held her stomach as she begged him to stop in between gasps of laughter as he recounted one particular mishap involving his attempted shaving of a cat, a terrible dare made by one of his cousins, he too bold and proud to refuse the challenge. When she had recovered from her fits of laughter he had presented the sword to her, the expression on her face was seared into his memory, she had beamed a grand smile, covering her mouth like a young girl and gasped "Oh", tears welling in her sparkling blue eyes. He had insisted she put it around her waist, wishing he could have been the one to do it, half-cursing his useless right hand. She had thanked him with one of her sweet kisses, tender and long. He could have taken her then in the cave, laid her out on the blanket and have his way with her, but as always he extinguished those thoughts as they came. It was mere days until the wedding, they had waited this long, he could wait a few more sunsets. They had both laughed at the imagined faces of their attendees of their wedding as both he and she stood before them taking their vows, swords around their waists. Jaime had even proposed they duel to really liven up the event; they had both been in hysterics at that thought.

And now the sword was left behind, and his Brienne was nowhere to be found. He could feel his breath quickening; he shut his eyes tight, pressing his hand to his temple._ Did she change her mind? Did she return to her father and Tarth? To Hyle Hunt?_ The last thought sickened him and he could taste the bile rising in his mouth. He could feel himself spiralling; his mind struggled to process the emotions raging through him. He turned his back to the dress, the sword and Sansa.

"She wouldn't have left like this," Sansa spoke quietly and with fear, she tentatively put her hand on his shoulder. Jaime felt like raging at the girl, if only to abate the threat of his tears. He swallowed hard; his throat constricted and tight.

Sansa took her hand away and placed herself between him and the door, "You have to find her, she would not have left like this, I know it. She could be in danger."

Jaime's gaze snapped up to meet Sansa's, fear washed over him, replacing the hurt and anger. His blood turned cold. The Stark girl was right; Brienne wouldn't have left like this, certainly not without a note of explanation. He pushed past Sansa and ran down the hall; he needed to organize a search and fast.

He had to find her.


	24. Words He Will Believe

Brienne groaned awake, it was cold and dark; there was a dampness in her bones. Her arms were raised, her wrists bound together, the coarse ropes were cruelly cutting into her skin. Squinting through her one eye she tried to make sense of where she was, her other eye was uselessly swollen shut. She could taste old blood in her mouth. The sounds and smells of the ocean could be heard nearby; she was in one of the old miner caves.

Peering out to the mouth of the cave she could see the dim colors of a dying sunset, hues of purple and red. It was then she realized she wasn't alone, her muscles tensed as she drew back pressing herself against the cold craggily wall. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she could see there were more silhouettes in the cave with her. A small womanly figure stood at the entrance of the cave, Brienne's heart felt as though it had stopped, then it began to beat very fast, _Stoneheart? _ The small figure came closer, raising a lantern closer to her face. It was much worse… _Cersei Lannister._

"Hello, Brienne." Cersei stood in front of Brienne, an armed soldier brought a chair for the Queen to sit before her. Brienne knelt on the cave floor, their eyes level. She did not return Cersei's greeting, her head was pounding and she was struggling to maintain consciousness.

"Well, that is no way to greet your Queen." Cersei leaned her head to the side and said almost playfully.

She was dressed very plainly in a long umber cloak, looking more like a commoner than Brienne had ever seen her, even without all her finery there was no denying what a beauty Cersei Lannister was, flawless pale skin, green eyes and golden haired.

Brienne attempted to reply but coughed instead as she tried to speak her throat raw and dry.

"You poor thing, let me get you some water," Cersei didn't move, she simply outstretched her hand and a flask was brought to her. Brienne turned her head to the side, refusing the drink.

Cersei rolled her eyes and drank from the flask herself. She offered the flask again, Brienne drank greedily but managed very little down as she coughed and sputtered out most of what entered her mouth. The water dribbled down her chin and neck onto the cave floor.

"You really are a great foolish beast, you could have been spared all this if you had simply accepted that proposal I so graciously arranged for you. It's likely you could have even had a big ugly baby inside of you by now, happily married and living on your stupid little rock." Cersei's green eyes glared at her ruthlessly.

"Hunt?"

Cersei smirked, "Well, it does speak."

"Hunt has been very forthcoming, and very useful, when I proposed he ask for your hand he seemed adamant that you would refuse. I pressed him, offering a handsome dowry on your behalf. That was enough to convince him to at least try. I could have taken your little home easily enough, but then I wasn't too sure that would work in my favour with Jaime. You've forced me to take a slyer approach."

Cersei's mention of Jaime's name flooded Brienne with an ache of deep sorrow. This night was to have been their wedding night; bitter tears came to her eyes as her thoughts turned to him, but she willed them away. She didn't want to cry in front of this creature.

She had been out riding early in the morning giving her plenty of time to collect the gift she had commissioned for him … A book, beautifully illustrated detailing all of Jaime's deeds. She wanted to record for him the deeds he had done, to illustrate the kind of man he was to her in her eyes. The book was to be a piece of him to live on long after they were gone. She had requested that the last few pages be left blank, room to document whatever may come next for them.

The master scribe had laboured on the tome for weeks, he was a hermit of a man and lived deep in woods to the south, it was a long ride and she had wanted to return in time to prepare for the ceremony. She was half way into her ride, the sun had not even been up for an hour when she heard a band of men approaching; they were dressed in Lannister armour, at first she had thought that Jaime had sent them. She had stopped and turned her horse to greet them. The riders did not slow, and the sudden unexpected blow to her skull was not blocked. She fell from her horse gracelessly, her un-armoured side smashing painfully against large rocks. In a dizzy haze the last thing she remembered was the hilt of a sword as it knocked her unconscious.

"I need you to break whatever spell it is you've put over him." Cersei pulled a small paper from her cloak. "You are going to write words he will believe, say good-bye, he must not question it, this madness with you and he ends tonight."

"I will not," Brienne glared at Cersei, with furious blue eyes.

Cersei sighed as she retrieved a scroll from her cloak. "This is a message for my servant at Tarth with orders to end your father. Lord Selwyn always did have a weakness for pretty young women didn't he? I could send my order along with a raven tonight, your father could be drowning in his own blood by tomorrow morning, or I could just as easily burn it. The choice is yours." Cersei crossed her arms, and leaned back slightly, an arrogant smirk plastered on her lips; she looked like she was impatiently waiting on a child to make a decision.

_She's going to kill me anyway… my father..._

Brienne shut her eyes, tightened her lips and reluctantly nodded. Cersei motioned to her soldier; the helmed captor untied her wrists. Brienne grimaced as her joints in her shoulders and arms screamed, there was a terrible pain in her right side, possibly a broken rib. 

_I can save my father._

The thought of never getting to see him or her home was near unbearable; she felt sudden pains of guilt wash over her for staying away from Tarth for so long. Brienne bit her lip to keep the tears welling up in her eyes from spilling out. A small traveling writer's block was brought to her, Brienne was given a quill, ink and paper. Brenne sat for a long time playing with the quill in her hands, not knowing what to write.

"Bring me my raven." Cersei commanded one of her men.

"No." Brienne began to scribble,

_Ser Jaime,_

_Please forgive me. I cannot marry you. There are some wrongs that cannot be forgiven, you know what they are. Good-bye._

_- Brienne_

Cersei read her letter and frowned, "So short?"

"He wouldn't believe a long flowery good-bye from me." It was all Brienne could do not to cry.

Cersei seemed satisfied with her response; she stood and pulled the hood around her golden locks. "You know I came to Jaime once in similar dress, it was at an inn… I played the commoner, I recall him quite enjoying it. He'll need soothing this evening."

Brienne sprang forward, her hands nearly made it to Cersei's neck before one of the guards knocked her to the floor.

"Kill her, but keep her parts intact, big lumbering lug that she is… should be useful to Qyburn," Cersei grabbed the lantern and left the cave, her long skirts sweeping the floor.

Brienne was alone in the dark with her captors. One of the three approached her, unsheathing his sword.

Her hands were now free.

_If I can get one of their swords; I may yet live through tonight…_


	25. To My Golden Knight

He had every able bodied man search in all four directions of Casterly Rock, and yet there had been no indication of where Jaime's betrothed had vanished. It was hours passed sunset, and the darkness had made their search futile. Jaime refused to quit he was deep to the south when a party of his men rode up behind him. His heart leaped hoping they had news of Brienne.

"Ser, you must return to the castle,"

"Brienne?" Jaime realized how desperate he sounded, but found he didn't care.

"No M'lord. It's your sister. She has just now arrived and requests your presence."

"Cersei?" Jaime was shocked; if the man had told him the ocean had turned to sand he would have thought it more believable than Cersei being at the Rock. Jaime hadn't thought much of his sister since his battle with Robert Strong. Anytime her memory would threaten to come to him he would aggressively push it away. He was certain she blamed him for Tommen's death, and though he wouldn't admit it, he was devastated when she had been so willing to let him die by Strong's blade.

_Why is she here? I need to find Brienne…_

As if the soldier could read the indecision on Jaime's face he interjected, "Ser, the search is hopeless in the dark, we must resume at dawn."

Jaime knew the man was right; he himself had almost smashed his head on several low tree boughs. Reluctantly he pulled the reigns of his horse, and turned around, heading back in the direction of Casterly Rock.

Jaime stood outside his sister's door; he hadn't been in this wing of the castle in ages. Two helmed guards stood on each side.

_So she feels the need to guard herself? _

Jaime couldn't help but wonder if these men were warm blooded, or more of her cold dead things, gifts of Qyburn's. He walked past the guards and opened the door. Cersei had made little time in making herself at home. She sat at her dressing table; a servant girl Jaime did not recognize braiding her long glorious mane. She was wearing a green dress, one that he remembered from their youth, the one with the white laces at the bodice, ones he use to enjoy untying with his teeth. As his reflection came into view of the mirror she turned, brushing the girl away.

"Brother!" Cersei flung her arms around his neck, and landed a kiss at the spot below his ear. She pushed her body into him and held him tightly. His arms remained at his sides. The timing of her visit made his limbs stiffen.

"Where is she Cersei?" Jaime gritted his teeth, his jaw tensed.

Cersei pulled away slightly, her arms still encircled around him, she looked into his eyes, her expression hurt.

"What is wrong with you? This is how you greet me after all this time, after all that has happened?" Her beautiful green eyes were wet with the threat of tears. "Leave us," Cersei choked out a command to the servant, the poor girl looked terrified as she set down a pitcher of wine and hurried out of the room.

Jaime pulled away from his sister and sat at the edge of her bed, his fingers smoothing the fabric of her blankets, the familiar red and golden floras bringing back unwanted lustful memories he had thought long buried.

"I have heard of your bride leaving this morning, I'm so sorry Jaime." Cersei stood in the spot where he left her, like she was frightened to approach him.

S_he's never been sorry for anything…_

"If you've ever loved me sister, swear to me now that you had nothing to do with Brienne's disappearance," Jaime held his sisters gaze, looking for any trace of deception.

Cersei shook her head no, she came to him then, gathered his hand in hers and answered, "Of course not." Jaime could not decipher whether she was lying or not. He wanted to believe her. He felt so bloody helpless.

There was a knock at the door.

"Go away." Cersei commanded.

"Pardons, but 'tis word of Ser Jaime's lady," came the muffled response from behind the door.

Jaime jumped from the bed and ran to the door, flinging it open. "What is it?" Jaime demanded. The servant girl looking terrified held a small letter. "I'm sorry Ser, one of your men found this."

Jaime thanked the girl, and returned to the room. He unfolded the small note with his hand and read…

_Ser Jaime,_

_Please forgive me. I cannot marry you. There are some wrongs that cannot be forgiven, you know what they are. Good-bye._

_- Brienne_

There was a wet mark blurring the letters of her name, but there was no denying this was her hand. Jaime felt the strength in his legs leave him, he slumped down to the floor, exhaustion finally taking him he felt like he was on the verge of sobbing like a child. Cersei ran to him, her arms encircling his neck, holding him upright. She shushed into his ear as he cried. How long she held him like that he couldn't have said, after some time he felt her lips kissing his forehead, then his cheeks, and finally her pink lips kissed his, brief at first, then more fully, she knelt on the floor with him, her hands holding his head she pressed her lips to his again, her tongue searching for his. Jaime stiffened and pushed her away.

"What are you doing?" he asked bewildered.

"I'm comforting you," She seemed confused by his response. Cersei pushed herself up from the floor her small hands and fingers, brushing his hair. "You are right, this is much too soon. I'm here now Jaime my love. You will see that in time we can be as how we were once before, two halves of the same whole."

"What are you doing here?" This was not the response she was expecting, her lips tightened and she stepped back from him.

"Things have been extremely difficult for me since Tommen was… injured. The city was in chaos, half of it lost to fires, so many killed. But Tommen lived. It was a miracle," She smiled brilliantly, but her eyes said something else."

"He didn't survive that Cersei. What have you done?" Jaime didn't like the look in her eyes, too much like Ayres.

"What I had to." She returned his accusing gaze stone set in her eyes.

His stomach knotted and broiled suddenly he couldn't stand to look at her, couldn't stand to be in this room with her. Without word Jaime moved from the floor, gathered what strength he had and left. She never called for him, or if she did he didn't hear it.

Jaime moved down the halls in a blurred daze, he felt like he was moving under water, his legs numbly carried him to the balcony doors, he thrust them open and the crisp night air rushed into his lungs painfully, snow swirled around him and the cold bit into his skin. He stopped at the edge of the short stone wall and looked down below, the fall would kill him easily and then her words came to him like a haunting whisper...

…_Are you so craven? _

They had been like a slap when she had spit them at him the first time, insulted him in a way that no one had ever dare. It had been enough to snap him back from his darkness.

Jaime pulled away from the balcony, shut the doors and made his way to his chambers. He was thankful for the wine that was set out at his table; he finished one flagon, and poured another. The sooner he drank himself into a sleeping stupor the better. He finished his second glass as quick as he had the first, and as he poured his third he noticed the book, red leather with golden scroll, the title read, '_Ser Jaime the Golden Hand'_

"What is this?" Jaime opened the handsome book. Inside detailed his feat of jumping unarmed into the bear pit with an illustration of him standing between Brienne and the bear, she was bloody and wearing a torn pink dress. Another page was of him giving gold to the orphans at that accursed inn, his victory over Robert Strong, their opening of the Lion's Gate during the riots at Kings Landing. Jaime flipped back to the first page, there written in her delicate hand the words…

_To my golden knight, noble and true_

_Your loving wife,_

_Brienne_

Jaime's heart beat faster… _She couldn't have left me; she doesn't think me unworthy…_

Jaime whirled on his heels, he needed to know where this book came from, who had left it for him, and most of all he needed to find his Brienne.


	26. Looking For Her Stars

Growing up on Tarth she had been a solitary child, when she wasn't reading or practicing in the yards with swords she was star gazing and dreaming. Evenfall was considered a minor house to most of the mainland Lords, Tarth was nestled in the waters just off the coast of many towns and ports, a strategic place that occasionally a ship might land for a night or two, her father had received many captains and they would dine in the hall sharing their tales of strange exotic places, and the many storied adventures they had encountered along the way. These visitors were the first to plant the seeds of adventure within Brienne. She would listen intently to the stories of the captains and the other sea faring men, imagining herself as a knight boldly joining them, participating in adventures that would earn her the praises in songs. When others had retired to their quarters she would stay up late looking up to the night sky, staring at the stars and dreaming of a world where she could wield a sword, earn the respect of others with her good deeds.

As she became older she felt the weight of being Selwyn Tarth's sole heir grow heavier and heavier. Her father would often take a new lady, and every time he did she would pray for a brother to be born, even if he was a bastard she was sure she could convince her father to forego her claim. It would seem her prayers and her father's efforts would both prove to be fruitless. In many ways her appearance came as a hidden blessing, with each failed betrothal her father seemed to become more resigned to the idea that she would never marry, would never sire a child. She suspected her unwillingness to marry was the reason he took so many women to his bed chambers, in a way she felt at fault for setting him up for Cesei's trap.

She had bested her captors in the cave, but it had not been easy work. Managing to wrestle a blade from the first; she delivered a flurry of frantic strikes, not sure if they were undead creatures she showed no mercy and had swung for their necks. It was fortunate that these guards were not of the same calibre as Robert Strong had been. Ignoring all the protests of her injuries she eliminated the first two by removing their heads from their bodies. A third had come up on her left, her blind side; his blade sunk into her torso, the agony had been astonishing. She was certain her attacker had punctured her lung. As he pulled his blade out of her she fell to her knees with a great cry, the blade arched up into the air coming down at her, it was all Brienne could do to raise her stolen blade to parry the attack. The dead thing was tireless, but it was slow and clumsy. She delivered a returning strike to its neck, lifting herself up she put all her strength into slashing her blade to the right, when the body fell she kicked the head hard, separating it from its neck. She collapsed, spitting blood onto the cave floor, her breathing was ragged and short, her mind and body almost begged to be turned off, to collapse and rest, Brienne shook her head and forced herself to her knees, then feet. Leaning against the cave wall she could hear the movement of the corpses she had jut slain. There was no wildfire this time; she was trapped in the cave with these creatures, horrifyingly raising their headless bodies back to life. There was little time to hesitate, Brienne hacked and slashed at each of the corpses, severing limbs, throwing and kicking them away as far as she could. Running on pure adrenaline, she limped out of the cave; the ocean waves were loud and crashing below her somewhere, she looked to the sky for her stars.

Her heart dropped when she heard the voices of men outside the cave. Brienne knew she was done, she had no more fight in her, and her only hope was to run. It was a blessing when she heard the snorting of her horse. Brienne couldn't make out how many men there were around the fire, their shadowy figures hidden by the trees. She patted her horse gently shushing him, untied his reigns and made her escape…

She rode her horse hard, the great beast's hooves thundered underneath her. Her chapped hands tightly clung to the reins. Her pursuers were close behind her; she could hear their yells in the near distance. Brienne ducked low kicking her heels into the poor horse's side. She wasn't entirely sure how far away she was from the Rock, but she knew she knew was heading in the right direction, the Evenstar of the East was to her right, she was heading North, she hoped if she kept riding the terrain would become more familiar.

When the horses pace began to slow, she knew she could push him no more. Brienne dismounted gracelessly, her head dizzy, and her sight seriously impaired with only one good eye struggling to see in the dark night. Once her feet were firmly planted on the frozen ground Brienne slapped the rear of her horse sending him away alone. She hoped the men chasing her would continue to follow the horse and not her. Thankful for a moonless night Brienne slinked into the pine forest and headed in the opposite direction of the sounds of the men chasing her, with luck they would pass her by and she could continue north.

Brienne had never been the kind of girl that had spent any time imagining the details of her future wedding night, but she could admit with certainty that hiding from a band of men hunting her down like wild game would not have been it. She leaned against the trunk of a tree gasping for breath, the snow was starting to fall again, she hoped it would keep falling; her tracks would be better hidden. There was a part of her that yearned to close her eyes and sleep there, letting the snow bury her like a blanket. _Jaime_. The thought of him was enough to make her move and to continue walking towards what she hoped was Casterly Rock.

It had been quite some time since she had heard the noise of her pursuers. She moved so painfully slow, her side protested with each step, her breathing was cut short with each inhale. She fell several times, scrambling in the dark, the root of a tree, the icy surface of a rock, there were so many invisible obstacles below the new snow. The worst was when the cold started to set in, as the winds picked up she could feel it slice into her like a whip. Her limbs felt heavy, she was so utterly exhausted, but she knew she couldn't allow herself to rest, afraid she wouldn't be able to pick herself up again. Her hand pressed to her side, she winced as she could feel the warm stickiness of her wound, drops of blood melted into the snow below her feet, slow at first, but as she ploughed forward, the drops made their patterns more quickly, like crimson rose buds. Her vision became hazy, her head dropped, and her eyelids would not stay open, she fell with a thud into the snow, her consciousness fading. Closing her eyes she thought she could hear his voice…

_"Brienne?"_

_"No M'lord. It's your sister. She has just now arrived and wishes to see you."_

_"Cersei?" _

"Jaime," Brienne's voice called to him, very weakly, barely a whisper as she tumbled into to unconsciousness.


	27. Not Tonight

He had frightened half the servants in Casterly Rock demanding to know where the book had come from. He raged until finally a scullery maid was produced who recalled it coming in shortly before the wedding ceremony. The hermit scribe who lived in the woods deep to the south had sent it along with guests making their way up from Crakehall. She recounted the story that she had overheard Lady Brienne was supposed to have journeyed to the scribe that morning to collect they book, but she had never arrived.

Jaime silently cursed himself for not paying more attention to the books in the great library and the scribes of the area, Tyrion would have known the maker's hand by sight. He also could have smashed in all their stupid faces for not sharing this information with him earlier. He was too concerned with finding Brienne to rage at them further.

He gathered a party of men and called for his horse. Jaime was so exhausted he was fighting bouts of nausea, but he felt this nagging need to ride towards the south.

The winds were picking up again, and snow blew all around him. They had ridden for near an hour when he saw her horse… without its rider. His men grabbed the horse, there was blood down the horses left side, but the beast seemed unharmed. Jaime's chest constricted with dread. He would have traded all the gold of Casterly Rock for a single blood hound in that moment. He felt cursed; having sent them all away on a hunt, his sole obsession these past few weeks had been securing food for the long winter ahead. Truly it had been their joint sole obsession; it pained him to think that just a few short weeks ago she had sat with him every morning writing his dictations, followed by their spars in the yard.

They continued to ride south for close to another hour when he heard the distinct voices of men. Jaime held up his golden hand, no one stirred. Jaime silently dismounted, his men reading his silent order followed suit. Gingerly stepping over the new fallen snow Jaime approached closer to the voices.

"I'm going to fuck this bitch's big dumb head in; my peckers about to fall off from this cold…"

"Likely you'll be fucking a corpse, look at all this blood."

_Two distinct voices…_

"She's close no doubt about it, best make sure she's dead."

_No three of them…_

"Here! I've found the bitch!"

Jaime bolted; his legs pumping hard towards the men's voices, his cloak blew behind him, his breath steaming out of him like a wild beast. Arriving at a clearing, the three men turned as he pushed through the brush, swords drawn, and beyond them he saw her…

Lying in the snow, slumped against a tree, her eyes shut; mouth slightly agape, blood trickling down from one corner of her lips. Her arm was holding her side, and all around her was red. As a soldier Jaime had seen blood, he had witnessed death a hundred times over, but nothing could prepare him for the butchery that had been done to his Brienne.

The men looked at him hesitantly, as if trying to decide if they should attack. Jaime noted they were dressed in Lannister reds, his blood ran hot with that revelation. When his own men had finally caught up to where he had dashed off to, one of the opposing men realizing the odds were not in his favour held up his hands, dropping his sword in surrender.

"No, I don't think so." Jaime unsheathed his sword; in three quick paces and with lightning quick reflexes delivered the blade into the unarmed mans neck. A fountain of blood sprayed into the air. The other men bolted, Jaime simply nudged his head, and his men pursued them, promptly running them down, their brief screams wailing up into the night air.

Jaime knelt into the snow; biting his leather glove off with his teeth, with his left hand he pressed his fingers to her pale neck.

_Gods she's far too cold._

He moved his fingers to another spot, desperate to find any trace of a pulse, his despair grew as he realized he could not find one, something deep and dark seemed to be swallowing him up from the inside, his breathing was becoming frantic.

_I'm too late…_

Jaime grabbed her, pulling her lifeless body into his, cradling her head into the crook of his shoulder, his fingers entangled in her straw coloured hair, frozen with sweat.

"Brienne…" His voice cracked, as tears freely rolled down his cheeks. He kissed her cold ruined cheek, holding her tight.

Then he heard a sound that froze him in place.

"Jaime…" her lips barely moved, but he had heard it clearly.

"Here!" He shouted, "Now!" With all the grace a one handed man could possibly manage Jaime removed his cloak draping it over Brienne and carried her into his arms. With the help of his men he mounted his horse; once she was secured back in his arms he kicked his horse hard. They raced, swirls of snow dancing behind them.

"You're not dying on me tonight wench. I forbid it." Jaime looked at her, he knew it was absurd to think he saw the faint trace of a smile, but it was enough to make him kick his horse again.

Several of his men offered to help him carry her, but he refused and shouted orders for the maester. Jaime carried her to his chambers and laid her gently on the bed. She hadn't spoken since they had first found her in the woods. The maester rushed into the room, carrying his instruments with him.

"She's frozen," Jaime told the man.

"It would be best if she were warmed slowly, skin to skin contact is best. We need to remove her clothes. We can send for ladies…"

"Fuck that," Jaime removed his dagger from his hilt, and without hesitation began slicing into Brienne's clothing.

"My Lord!" The old maester protested in shock.

Jaime ignored him only pausing briefly when he realized how terrible her wounds were. Each article of clothing seemed to reveal a new cut or bruise. Jaime undressed himself and once fully naked climbed into the bed with Brienne. Wrapping his arms around her he shivered violently as his skin rested against hers.

"Treat her wounds," Jaime demanded as he tilted Brienne's body towards him, exposing her naked side and back to the maester.

The maester nodded and grabbed his tools. Jaime couldn't see the maester as he worked from his vantage point, but it felt like he held Brienne like that for hours, his teeth eventually stopped chattering, and he could feel her naked body begin to warm next to his. The sun began to rise in the east, slivers of light began to crawl across the floor and yet the maester still silently worked at Brienne's wounds. Jaime kissed her forehead, closed his eyes said a prayer to the Seven. After some time fight as he may, he could feel himself drifting away.


End file.
